


Descending

by Jlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Childhood, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hacking, Homicide, Jealousy, Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Murder, Organized Crime, Patricide, Physical Abuse, Pregnancy, Scarification, Sex, Smut, Switching, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 69,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jlocked/pseuds/Jlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty's life from conception and onwards. It may start out cute and sweet, but since it's Jim it will get bloody and it will get smutty. Consider yourselves warned.</p>
<p>(a Jim-bio, pieced together from ideas and rp's. It's all seen from the people around him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Honey, you have to come home now."

"What is it?" Ardan Moriarty asked, already worried. "Is something wrong with Jemmie?"

"No, she's fine," his wife insured him. "Something's happened. Something good."

"Then tell me, honey," he said, sensing the urgency in her voice.

"No, not over the phone, please. I want to see you when you hear this."

Ardan knew that there was no persuading his wife when she had made up her mind on something like this. "Okay, honey. I'll just finish up here and be home in no more than half an hour."

"Hurry, darling," she said, her voice bubbling with happiness.

…

Jemima Moriarty was playing on the floor. She heard the voices of mother and father, and she knew from the sound of them that something important was happening. But the language was still somewhat unfamiliar to her, so even though she recognised some of the words, the content of the conversation was a complete mystery to her. Still she listened.

"I thought you would be happy."

"But honey, I am happy. Only, there was a reason why the doctors told us not to try. There is too much risk."

"Don't you dare tell me to give it up. It is a miracle in itself that it happened at all. Don't you dare tell me to throw that away."

"But honey. What about Jemima? What will we tell her?"

"She's too young to understand. She will be happy too. We never dreamed that she would get to be a big sister. Don't you see how wonderful this is?"

"Yes, honey. I've wished for this too. But when we adopted, I thought we agreed that we wouldn't try anymore. That it was not worth the risk, now that we have Jemima who depends on us."

"I didn't plan this Ard. It just happened. It's a miracle and you are not going to take this away from me."

…

Jemima Moriarty was sitting in the large black leather chair, her arms stretched to even reach the armrests, her feet barely hanging over the edge. She was slumped down, intently staring at the door. No-one had told her anything, but she could sense something was wrong. Father would never have left her on her own for so long, if there was not something urgent and dangerous that needed his attention even more than she did.

The strange woman in the white dress, who had been charged with looking after her was pacing the room. Jemima thought she was anxious, both to be somewhere else and to know more. Know what?

Finally the door opened. Father came in with two of the uncles. He looked wrong. His face was all wrong. There was no smile, no spark. Instead it was just old and lined and grey. Jemima wanted to jump out of the chair. To run to him and reach for him to pick her up. But his eyes passed over her, and it was as if he didn't see her. So she stayed where she was.

"You must tell her," one of the uncles said in a low voice to father. But father did not even seem to have heard. So the other uncle let go of father's arm and walked to Jemima. He crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on the seat of the chair on either side of her.

"Jemima, honey," he said, sounding very serious. "You have a little baby brother."

Father groaned and turned away.

"But," the uncle continued, "something went wrong. I'm sorry, honey. Your mother died."

Jemima didn't move. She just sat there trying to make sense of the words.

"Do you understand?" he asked, frowning. "Your mother is dead."

The other uncle came and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's too young," he said. "She does not understand, and she won't remember."

Behind them the door opened again. Another women dressed in white came in, carrying something in her arms. A bundle of cloth it seemed. She went to father, but he turned away. Then she looked at the uncles. The one who was standing nodded, and with a gentle tug on his shoulder got the other one to stand up and step away from Jemima.

The woman in white walked over and carefully kneeled in front of Jemima. She held out the bundle. Inside it was a face. The smallest face Jemima had ever seen.

"This is your new baby brother," the woman said. "Would you like to hold him?" She held out the bundle and, hesitantly, Jemima put her arms around it, imitating the way the woman had carried it. As the weight shifted into her arms, the bundle squirmed and the little face opened its eyes. They were so dark. The darkest eyes Jemima had ever seen, except in the mirror.

"He's not your brother," father said suddenly as he strode over. "You are not his sister." He reached out for the bundle. He looked angry.

One of the uncles stepped in front of him. "No Ard. I know you're grieving and feeling angry and scared. But don't take it out on the wee ones."

Father turned away again. His shoulders were shaking. Jemima knew that kind of shaking. Her own shoulders did it when she cried. The woman in white went to father and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me sir," she said in a kind voice. They left.

The two uncles came to crouch in front of Jemima, looking at the little face of the bundle in her arms.

"He is beautiful," one of them said.

"Yes," the other one agreed. "But the eyes are strange. Those are not Moriarty eyes." He looked up at Jemima. "It's like he somehow got her eyes."

They looked at each other and smiled.

After a while, one of them asked. "What do you suppose they'll call him?"

The other one frowned. "I don't know. I don't know if Ard will even want to name him."

For the first time since she had entered the strange room, Jemima spoke. "Jem," she said. They wanted a name for the bundle. They could have hers.

The two uncles looked at her, a strange look in their eyes.

"Jim," one of them said with a small smile.

"James," the other one said and nodded. "A good name." He reached out and stroked one cheek of the little face with a single finger. "James Moriarty," he said.

...

"Jemima! James! Oh, where have you two gotten off to now?" Miss Corhenn was searching through the large house, growing more and more concerned.

Then she heard the familiar eerie giggles, coming from two separate bodies, yet the sounds so alike and synchronous that it almost became one. "There you are, my little gems," she said with a relieved sigh as she lifted a corner of the cloth that was covering the large dining room table. "What are you doing down there?"

"Talking," Jemima answered at once. She was sitting cross-legged under the table, her little brother resting in her lap. She had her arms tightly around his chest and he was grasping her wrists in his hands. For some reason, it made Miss Corhenn uneasy.

"Don't be silly Jemmie," she said. "Jim can't talk. He is too little."

Truth be told, the three year old should have started talking a long time ago, but considering his unfortunate start in life and less than ideal home situation, she supposed that it was only to be expected that he would be a bit slow, maybe even retarded.

"Sure he does," Jemima said. "He talks to me."

Miss Corhenn frowned. "That's nice dear," she said. "Now come out please. It's time for your bath."

…

Jemima woke up at the sound of bare feet on her bedroom floor. She waited and as if on cue it came: "Sis?"

"Yes, I'm awake, Jim." She lifted up her blanket and he crawled into the bed, curling up against her.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "It's alright," she whispered.

…

"I'm telling you Jeanie, it's not natural."

The words, though hushed, were still clearly audible. Miss Corhenn was with a friend in her room, while Jemima and Jim played in his room. But both had stopped the game and listened.

"Shush Allie, not so loud," Miss Corhenn hissed. "They'll hear you."

"How could they?" her friend asked. "We're almost whispering and the door is closed."

"I don't know," Miss Corhenn said. "But they hear everything. And I do mean everything. The other day the boy commented on the sounds from the new television set. But we don't have a television set. The neighbours do..."

There was a gasp and then a pause.

"You're kidding me?"

"I wish I were."

"But still," her friend continued, her voice even lower. "The way they cling to each other. It's not natural. They're brother and sister, not siamese twins."

"They're not even that," Miss Corhenn whispered. "Didn't you know? The girl is adopted. The Moriarties got her when they thought they could not have children of their own. And then, when she was two, the Mrs. became pregnant."

"She died giving birth to him, didn't she?" her friend asked, sounding almost in awe.

"Yes. The father blames them both. Jimmy for directly causing her death, according to him, and Jemmie for not being a good enough daughter, because if she had been, his wife would never have been so desperate for a child that was truly her own. He has barely spoken ten words to either of them since the boy was born."

Her friend paused for a moment then whispered: "That's terrible."

"I know," Miss Corhenn replied. "I suppose that's why they are so inseparable. They only have each other."


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian had once again been to the headmaster's office. These days it seemed he spent more time there than in lessons. As so often before, the issue discussed today had been his habit of smoking behind the chemistry wing. Someone had seen him and had gone straight to a teacher.

This was not good. The headmaster and even the detention he could handle. But since it was the third time he'd been caught this month, a letter would be sent to his parents. That was very bad.

It was not the first time Sebastian had considered the implications of just not going home. But as always, he didn't see any alternative. He had nowhere to go, and he could be sure his dad would hunt him down. And then things might just get even worse.

Sebastian was fuming. Why couldn't people just keep out of his damn business? If he ever found out who had ratted on him, he would quite possibly kill them.

Then suddenly his mood changed for the better.

Jemima Moriarty was walking towards him. He stopped and tried to look like he was not staring.

Since he had transferred to the school six months ago, she had been taking up more and more of his thoughts and even made a few quite spectacular appearances in his dreams.

She was 17, in the year above him, short, exotic and absolutely gorgeous. But most importantly, she didn't give fuck-all for authorities. Some of the teachers were actually afraid of her, and if there was one quality he could appreciate in a girl, it was being able to scare the shit out of grown-ups.

She had her usual 'shadow'. Her scrawny little brother always right at her side. Sebastian couldn't remember ever having seen one without the other. It was odd really. How many seventeen year olds would voluntarily be hanging out with their younger siblings? And this one was a real freak. He was supposedly fourteen years old, going on fifteen, but he looked more like ten. Well, twelve maybe.

But he and Jemima were so inseparable that everyone had taken to simply calling them 'the Moriarties' or just 'those two'.

Sebastian looked away as they passed and then he turned to get a good look at Jemima's very shapely bum. And then he froze. The brother was looking back at him, and there was something very unsettling about the look in his eyes.

Sebastian quickly turned away and walked down the hall, his cheeks burning, his head feeling a little fuzzy. The brother would surely tell Jemima that Sebastian had been checking her out. How would she react? Would she beat him up, laugh at him or, maybe (the thought made his insides burn too), be interested?

Sebastian retrieved his jacket and then doubled back, heading for the exit. It was time to go home. At least they wouldn't get the letter before tomorrow. Or maybe even the day after that.

He was torn from his train of thought by the sounds coming from the chemistry lab as he passed. The little moans and wet sounds of some serious snogging. He grinned. It might just make this day a little more tolerable embarrassing some horny teenagers by walking in on them. Softening his footsteps he approached the half closed door, a grin on his face.

He pushed the door open and was about to announce his presence when he froze. With her back to him, was someone who could only be Jemima Moriarty. Two slender hands on her back indicated that she had someone shoved against the teacher's desk and the movements and sounds indicated that they were quite wrapped up in each other.

Those hands... Was it a girl? He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Jemima was certainly the type to not give a fuck, and just go for what she wanted. But who could it be? What other girl in school would be up for something like this? And who would Jemima actually be interested in? He glanced around the room, looking for an approach that might give him a chance to see the other person without interrupting this. Because he really did not want this to end. It was beyond a doubt the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Then Jemima tilted her head and he glimpsed short dark hair. His guts clenched. It couldn't be...

And then he noticed that some of the sounds coming from the pair were not altogether feminine. He fled the room and in a haze made his way outside. He must be mistaken. It was just some short-haired girl with a deeper voice than most. He must have seen her around the school. He just couldn't remember. Any other possibility was unthinkable.

He retreated without making himself known, his heart beating in his chest, his vision a little blurred. As he hastened down the hall he convinced himself that he must have been mistaken.

…

Carl was starting to get annoyed. It was bad enough that this little prick had been moved up not one, but two grades over the course of a single year. But now he had been assigned to Carl as a tutor. A tutor. Carl knew he was no genius at math, but to have this little boy instructing him in such a condescending way was more than he could bear. If Moriarty sighed one more time and pointed out the simplicity of a problem, he would just have to punch him and face the consequences.

And it didn't help that the boy seemed to be dead set on being as physically close to Carl as possible. Having him almost rub up against him as he pointed out the details in the textbook or took notes for Carl only emphasized how incredibly inferior he was. He was so small and skinny, those ridiculous eyes and soft skin making him seem more like a girl than anything else.

"No no no," the boy said, leaning close again. "Look at this. It's not a prime. You have to find the sum of the digits."

Carl huffed. This kid was about to get punched. Then Moriarty turned his head to look at him, and Carl realised to his horror just how close he was. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to swallow. And then the boy smiled at him. "I really like helping you, y'know. You pick up on this stuff so much faster than some of the dunces they've had me working with." He laughed softly before looking down at the book again.

"See," he pointed. "You actually had this one right, except for the third digit and that is an easy oversight."

What was going on here? Was he actually giving Carl praise? Or just sucking up to him?

Carl cleared his throat and Moriarty looked up at the sound. Even closer this time. The eyes took up almost all of Carl's field of vision. Those enormous dark deep eyes. Carl had to look away from them, so he looked down. And there were his lips. Slightly parted. And... no, this couldn't be happening… the tip of his tongue was visible sliding slowly along the upper lip.

Carl didn't quite know how it happened. Suddenly he found that he had gotten to his feet, pulling the boy along with him, pushing him back against the desk and crushing their lips together. His mind was screaming in protest, but he found his body reacting in a truly horrifying manner.

It was as if Moriarty melted against him, going limp and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him close. He was definitely returning the kiss and Carl felt lust battling with disgust. The small moan that escaped the boy was the final straw.

Carl pushed him away forcefully and ran the back of his hand hard across his own lips as if to erase what had just happened. It must have been momentary insanity, no other possible explanation.

He stared at Moriarty and saw a gleam of something in his eyes. Just for a second but it was enough. Carl had seen it often enough both in the mirror and in the eyes of his opponents. Triumph.

The fucking freak had planned this. For some twisted reason he had manipulated him into kissing him. Carl roared in anger and launched himself at the boy. With a punch to his jaw he send him flying backwards, his back slamming into the wall, his head bouncing off it, before he slid to the floor.

"What the fuck is going on here?" The voice stopped Carl in his tracks as he was descending on the whimpering heap on the floor. He whirled around to face the intruder.

"Piss off, Moran," he hissed. "This has nothing to do with you."

Moran took a step closer. "It has everything to do with me, Powers. I'm not gonna stand by and let you beat up a little kid."

Carl sized him up. Though he himself was tough, he was no match for Moran.

He turned to Moriarty. "I'll get you, you little twat," he spat, before stalking past the taller boy out of the classroom.

…

Sebastian approached cautiously. "Are you okay?" he asked.

James was moaning a little and his body was shaking. Sebastian hadn't really seen him since Jemima had graduated. Truthfully, he had probably been avoiding him. He couldn't really see the kid without thinking about that day in the chemistry lab almost two years ago. Sebastian knew he had been mistaken. It had been a girl Jemima had been with. He even thought he knew who it might have been. But still, whenever he saw James, he was reminded of the horror and also that other, shameful feeling that had coursed through him when he thought he was seeing the two Moriarties together.

Sebastian crouched down next to him and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, shaking him very gently. "Are you okay?"

James looked up. His eyes seemed unfocused and there was a red bruise forming on his chin.

"I'm fine," he muttered, but his voice was shaky and weak.

"No you're not," Sebastian said with a wry smile. "Here, let me give you a hand." He took hold of James' arms and carefully helped him to his feet. "You should go to the nurse. You look concussed."

"No," James protested. "I'm fine. Hardly the first time..."

The words made Sebastian frown. "What do you mean: not the first time?"

Jim tried to laugh but then winced. "When you look like me and can do the things I can, you're bound to get beaten up on a regular basis. I just need to get home. Sis'll take care of me."

Sis? Oh, Jemima.

"I'll help you," he said, a little too quickly. "I can give you a lift."

James smiled up at him. "Thank you."

…

Jemima heard the car pull up in front of the house. It did not sound like father's car, so she went to her window and looked down. The car looked old, cheap and not very well kept. She immediately recognised the boy who got out. Moran. A year below her in school, rugby player, hung out with the bullies but never did much bullying himself. Hot. She smiled, wondering what he was doing at Moriarty Manor.

He went round to the other side of the car and opened the door. Then she saw Jim getting out, looking a bit unsteady on his feet. Shit! Not again.

She ran down the corridor, flew down the stairs and were opening the front doors before the boys had made it half way up the steps.

"What happened this time, Jim?" she demanded.

"Hi..." Sebastian began but Jim interrupted him, not meeting her eyes.

"Powers," he admitted.

Jemima gasped. "Oh no, Jim. You didn't..."

Jim shrugged, still looking down.

"Powers attacked him," Sebastian interjected, clearly confused. "He was about to beat him up when I stopped it."

Jemima took Jim's head between her hands and forced him to look up into her eyes.

"A mild concussion, I think. Jim, really. What were you thinking?"

"It wasn't your brother's fault," Sebastian interjected. "Powers is a prick, always beating up on anyone smaller than him."

"He's not my brother!" Jemima said abruptly, sounding almost angry. "I'm not his sister." For a moment her eyes were dark, then she laughed and said: "Thank you for taking him home. I've got him now."

Sebastian frowned. "Yes... Right... Not a problem."

With a final grateful smile, Jemima pulled Jim inside and shut the door in Sebastian's face.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian didn't quite know how it had happened, but somehow it seemed he and Jim had become friends. After he had helped him home that day, Jim had made a point out of always greeting Sebastian when he passed him in the hall. Then they had begun to stop and talk whenever they ran into eachother and somehow it had escalated to hanging out together.

And then Jim had started asking Sebastian for help. At first it was stuff like just walking with him when some of the more persistent bullies wouldn't leave him alone. But that had gotten better since Powers had died. He also asked Sebastian to keep stuff for him that was probably stolen. And on a few occasions he even had him intimidate some of the more troublesome kids at the school. He kept promising Sebastian that he would reward him somehow, but he was always very vague about it.

Sebastian found it kind of amusing. He helped Jim because he wanted to. He liked the kid. Found him fascinating. And just a bit scary, with that freakishly sharp mind of his. And he also kind of hoped that associating with Jim would get him closer to Jemima, but that hadn't happened yet. Still he would never expect any kind of reward from Jim. He wasn't working for him, he was just helping him as his friend.

One day, Jim texted him during first break to come and meet him by the gates. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he wondered what Jim was up to this time. Was there another poor sod that had somehow crossed him and needed a warning? Or had he gotten his hands on some new 'treasure' that he needed stashed away until the heat had died down?

With Jim, you just never knew.

Jim was waiting by the gate, his schooltie loosened and his jacket thrown carelessly on the ground next to him. He was lighting a cigarette and as Sebastian approached, he held the pack out to him.

"Thanks," Sebastian said, accepting the pack and digging out a slightly crumbled cigarette. Jim flicked the ligher on and held it up for him. Sebastian wondered why he hadn't just handed it to him, but shrugged and bent down to let Jim light his cigarette for him.

Jim took a drag, blew out the smoke and looked up at Sebastian. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said.

Sebastian almost choked on the smoke. "Now? Don't you have lessons?"

Jim shrugged. "Not really. I have an 'arrangement' with Henderson. She won't make a fuss if I don't show up."

Sebastian laughed. Why was he not surprised?

"We should all be so lucky," he said. "If I cut any more classes I'm getting expelled."

Jim grinned wickedly. "That's one of the reason's we're taking off. It's time for that reward I promised you."

Sebastian was intrigued and very very tempted. He had math in the next period and he did not feel up for it. "I can't, Jim. I've only got two months till graduation. I can't blow it now."

Jim looked him straight in the eyes, his usually playful features turning very grave and mature. "Do you trust me?"

Sebastian wanted to laugh but found he couldn't. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I do."

"Then let's go." Jim turned on his heel and strode out the gate. Sebastian picked up his discarded jacket and hurried after him.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he caught up with Jim.

"Your place," Jim said, smiling.

"Oh." Sebastian considered it for a moment. "I suppose it's okay. Dad is out of town on business and mum won't be home before tonight."

"Good," Jim said. "So we'll have it all to ourselves."

For some reason this made Sebastian nervous. "Yeah," he said.

…

Jim looked around curiously as he entered the sitting room. Sebastian felt a little nervous. Jim was so smart he might notice the faint but ever present signs that this was not a happy home.

"My room is upstairs," he said hurriedly, feeling that Jim was focusing way too intently on the pictures on the mantlepiece.

Jim turned and smiled at him. "Cool," he said. "Do you have a computer?"

"Yes," Sebastian said, sounding more than a little proud. "Just bought one last month."

He showed Jim up to his room and Jim immediately went to the desk, examining the brand new Olivetti. "I can work with this," he said to himself.

He pulled out a modem and started connecting it to the computer. He held out the jack. "Where can I hook this up?"

"Under the desk," Sebastian said, with a bemused smile.

Jim immediately slid of the chair and when he emerge a few seconds later he turned on the computer. "And we're connected," he said with a grin.

Sebastian just stared at him as he turned on the computer and started typing furiously. "Um," he said after a while. "Can I get you anything?"

Jim didn't answer, so Sebastian shrugged and went down to the kitchen to get some cokes. When he came back, Jim was frowning at the screen which was filled with columns and numbers. Sebastian noticed his own name at the top.

"What's that?" he asked as he put a coke down next to Jim.

"School," he answered, and then started typing again.

"Oh." Sebastian watched, seeing numbers on the screen beginning to change. "What exactly are you doing?" he asked, starting to feel nervous.

With a dramatic flourish, Jim hit 'enter' and then leaned back. "There," he said. "You now have a perfect attendance record. I couldn't stop the letter that had already gone out, but maybe you can intercept it before your parents see it."

Sebastian gaped at him. "W.. What?" was all he could say.

Jim picked up the coke, opened it and drank half in one go. "I could really use a smoke," he said, looking sated and smug.

"Oh... yeah," Sebastian said, still feeling rather dazed. "Um... Could you do it out the window, though? My dad'll flip if he can smell it."

"Of course." Jim got up from the chair and went to the window seat. He kneeled on it, opened the window and leaned out as he lit his cigarette. Then he held the pack towards Sebastian. "Want one?"

Sebastian took the pack and went to join Jim. "Budge up," he said, nudging his hip, to make him move.

Jim moved just enough for Sebastian to kneel beside him and lean out. Jim flicked the lighter for him again and held it up. Sebastian couldn't help but smile a little. It was an odd, but very Jim sort of thing to do, he supposed.

They smoked in silence for a while. The window was not wide, so their shoulders were almost pressed together. Normally it would have made Sebastian uncomfortable to be this close to another guy, but with Jim it somehow didn't matter.

Suddenly he noticed that Jim was looking at him. He turned his head and realised that they were in fact really close. Jim smiled and his eyes were incredibly brown and round, and oddly innocent. Sebastian cleared his throat. "So I take it, it's not the first time you've done something like this." Then he realised how it sounded and blushed a little. "With the computer I mean."

Jim laughed. "Oh no," he said. "I seem to have an affinity for those things. And now everything is coming online, there'll soon be no limits to what you can do if you know how."

Sebastian nodded. He wanted to turn away, but Jim kept looking him in the eyes, and he found that he couldn't. He had never seen him up close like this before. He had almost the exact same eyes as his sister, which was really odd, since he'd said she was adopted. His hair was a little long, almost hanging down into his eyes. His smile was small and a bit enigmatic.

Sebastian realised that his eyes had moved down to Jim's mouth without realising it. Then Jim's lips parted just a little, and Sebastian caught a glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue as it slid across them them.

For a moment, something like an electric shock coursed through Sebastian's body. Then he forced himself to look away. "Right," he said, not really remembering what they had been talking about.

Jim nudged him in the side with his elbow. "Don't be like that. Admit it: you're impressed."

He managed to hit that spot, just below the ribs that made Sebastian giggle and shy away.

"Don't do that," he said with a laugh.

"Do what?" Jim grinned wickedly and then nudged him in the exact same spot again. "This?"

Sebastian laughed and tried to avoid him.

"I'm not kidding. Don't do that."

Jim looked contrite for a moment. Then his hand shot out and he dug his fingers into Sebastian's side. Sebastian let out a rather undignified yelp and tried to squirm away. He grabbed Jim's wrist and they struggled for a moment, Jim grinning wickedly.

Then they lost balance and tumbled to the floor in a heap. Somehow Sebastian ended up on top of Jim. He was about to get up,when he felt fingers digging into both his sides.

"Oh no you don't," he growled as he grabbed Jim's wrists and pinned them to the floor above his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((As mentioned, this story is based on RP's. There are still a lot of gaps in Jim's life I need to fill out, so if any of you readers would be interested in contributing with a canon or original character's meeting with Jim, please let me know.))


	4. Chapter 4

For a moment it seemed everything had stopped. Sebastian was looking down at Jim, who was gazing up at him with an odd mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. The moment dragged on, their breathing the only sounds Sebastian could hear. Jim's shallow and fast, his own rather heavy. His head was filling with an odd buzz and he felt heat spreading inside of him.

He felt like he was about to panic. He fought to keep calm. He would just let go of Jim and get up. In a moment.

Then something happened. Jim had been straining a little against his grip, pushing up against him. But suddenly his eyes seemed to go unfocused and his body went completely limp. He was surrendering. Something inside Sebastian snapped and with a feral groan he bent down and crushed his lips against Jim's in a frighteningly hungry kiss.

Jim gasped and after a moment returned the kiss with equal intensity, though his body remained still and passive. Only his lips and tongue seemed to be moving. Sebastian felt overwhelmed. This made no sense, they shouldn't be doing this, but there was no way he could stop himself. His fingers tightened around Jim's wrists and he found that the resulting whimper only made him want this even more.

With an almost physically painful effort, he made himself pull back. He looked down at Jim, who was panting softly, his eyes almost glazed. "Are you okay?" he asked, feeling suddenly very awkward.

"Huh?" Jim seemed to have real trouble focusing on Sebastian.

He let go of his wrists and sat on the floor next to him. Putting a soft hand on Jim's shoulder he shook him gently. "Jim," he said, a little sharply. "Snap out of it."

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were back to their usual burning intensity. With a small smile, he looked Sebastian in the eyes and said: "Wow."

Sebastian almost snorted. "Wow?"

Jim sat up, still smiling at him. "That is beyond a doubt the best snog I've ever had."

"Oh." Sebastian had no idea what to say to that. He was still trying to understand exactly what had happened. Okay, so he'd kissed a boy. It wasn't exactly like he'd never thought about it. It was the way it had happened that baffled him. Why had Jim's vulnerability suddenly seemed so irresistible? And why had Jim reacted the way he did? He was struggling to make sense of it.

Jim's smile faded and he started getting to his feet. "I'll go now," he said, sounding defeated.

It took a moment for Sebastian to register what he had said. Then his hand shot out and grabbed Jim by the wrist. "No," he said, sounding a lot more insistent than he had meant to. He added more softly: "Why?"

"You don't want me here. I understand," Jim said, avoiding his eyes. "You didn't mean for it to happen. You don't know why you did it. I must never tell anyone. Don't worry, I know the drill." He tried to tear his arm away from Sebastian but failed.

"Well," Sebastian said with a frown. "You're right about most of that, except that I do want you here."

Jim looked at him, his eyes wide in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes," Sebastian said with a smile. "I don't know why I did that, but I'm not going to chuck you out. Now tell me: why would you expect me to?"

Jim looked away again. "They always do?" he muttered.

Sebastian's mind was starting to connect the dots, slowly. "Who do?" he asked.

"Straight boys," Jim answered. "The ones I can get to kiss me..."

"Get to kiss you?" Sebastian almost laughed. "So that's your game?" He watched the boy for a moment, once again amazed how young he looked. "This is what happened with Powers, isn't it?"

Jim nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "They sometimes hit me," he admitted. "Most of the time they just threaten me and leave."

"But why, Jim?" Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't even surprised. This was just so typical Jim.

"It's a power play," Jim chuckled weakly. "To see if I can get them to do it. It's a kind of rush when I win."

Sebastian couldn't help it. He laughed, half in amusement, half in exasperation. "I bet it is," he said. "You really are a nut, you know?"

Jim looked at him. "I suppose so. I'm sorry I pulled it on you though. I didn't mean to. We're friends. I didn't want to fuck it up."

"I'm not sure you did," Sebastian admitted. "I liked it and I think you did too."

"Are you kidding?" Jim said eagerly. "I meant what I said about it being the best snog I've ever had. It was amazing the way you just took charge. It completely blew my mind."

Sebastian knew a little about this kind of thing, having had a fling with a rather kinky girl a couple of years his senior. "You like being dominated?" he asked.

Jim thought for a moment. "I guess so," he said. "You like dominating?"

"Oh yes," Sebastian said with a grin. He reached for Jim and pulled him close, kissing him forcefully. Jim whimpered and went completely limp in his arms, surrendering to the kiss completely.

Sebastian broke the kiss and looked down at him, laughing. "Wow," he said. "You really like this, eh?"

Jim blushed and nodded.

"Good." Sebastian's eyes took on a wicked gleam. "Stop me if I go too far," he said, as he started unbuttoning Jim's shirt.

Jim just sat there, waiting as Sebastian slid the shirt of his shoulders and bent down, kissing his chest. As Sebastian sucked on one of his nipples he let out a shaky sigh, which ripped through Sebastian's body like an electric current. He smiled and then softly bit the nipple. The resulting yelp from Jim was like music in his ears.

Sebastian had discovered he liked playing rough about a year ago, but except one very intense week with that older girl, he hadn't really had any opportunities to try it. The girls he had hooked up with were all whiny or clingy, wanting him to 'make love to them' and be gentle. He respected that, but he was always hoping for someone who'd want him to just pin them down and have his way with them.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that this someone could be Jim.

He looked up at Jim, trying to gauge his response, seeing how far he was willing to take this. Jim's eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed very fast and shallow. His cheeks were flushed, his features a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

I was the single most arousing thing Sebastian had ever seen, and there was no way he could resist it.

"Stop me anytime," he whispered, as he took Jim by the shoulders and laid him down on the floor again. Jim followed willingly, his breathing becoming even more rapid.

A small part of Sebastian's mind couldn't believe he was doing this, as he unbuttoned Jim's trousers, pulled down the zip and started working them off him. Jim shifted just the tiniest bit to make it easier, but otherwise remained passive. He clearly wanted this, Sebastian thought. And he had to admit that so did he.

When Jim was just in his pants, Sebastian kissed him again, and then started moving his lips down his body, kissing, licking and nibbling along the way. Jim flinched a little and made some rather delicious whimpering and yelping sounds when Sebastian bit him, though he was careful to be gentle and not even leave any marks.

When he reached the hem of the pants he stopped and instead placed his hand on the clearly visible bulge at their front. Jim gasped and Sebastian drew in a sharp breath. He had never touched a cock before, apart from his own. It was a strange feeling even through the cloth. So hard and soft at the same time.

He moved his hand, rubbing Jim's erection, and couldn't help but enjoy the response he got. Jim whimpered softly and bit his lip, screwing his eyes even tighter shut. Sebastian could feel himself getting increasingly hard and his body growing impatient. But if he was gonna do this, he was going to take the time to do it right and to enjoy every moment of it.

He kissed Jim's stomach once and then got to his feet. He went over to the dresser and rummaged through the top drawer, until he found a pack of condoms and a small bottle of lube. It was a good thing he had kept it, though he'd really not thought he'd be needing it again. The older girl had been quite fond of anal sex and had taught him a lot.

He put the things on his bed and started taking his own clothes off. Jim was clearly listening but didn't open his eyes. Sebastian was impressed. He could not have just lain there, not really sure what was happening around him. Once he was naked, he kneeled next to Jim and started working his pants off him. Again, Jim moved just enough to make it easier, but otherwise gave no indication that he was an active part of what was happening.

Sebastian took one of Jim's legs and bent it, placing his foot on the floor. Then he did the same with the other one, placing them so wide apart that he could settle between them. He reached down and placed his hand on Jim's cock, for the first time feeling the naked skin against his hand. He had suspected for years that he might be sexually interested in boys as well as girl. At this moment it became unbearably clear that, yes, he was very interested in boys.

He couldn't resist. He just had to explore this. So he wrapped his fingers around it, noticing that it was longer but thinner than his own. Slowly he started stroking, watching the skin as it slid underneath his hand. Jim moaned softly, and Sebastian found his hand getting slick with precome. Somehow he would have thought it would feel disgusting, but he actually had to fight the impulse to lean down and taste it.

Instead, he moved so he could bend down and kiss Jim's inner thigh, making the other boy's whole body tremble, to Sebastian's intense delight. He bit him again, a little harder this time, and then let go of his cock and slowly moved his hand down, letting his fingers tickle and tease their way to Jim's hole.

At the first touch, Jim gasped and almost pulled away. But Sebastian grabbed his hip with his other hand and held him in place. When he had calmed down, he gently started massaging him in small circles until he felt the muscle starting to relax. He let go of Jim's hip and reached for the bottle of lube. After applying plenty to his finger, he slowly put pressure on the whole. Without any resistance, the tip of his finger slipped in, and he paused, letting Jim adjust. He was torn between watching his finger working its way into Jim's body and the truly breathtaking sight of Jim's face as his lips parted in pleasure at the sensation.

Encouraged, Sebastian pushed again and let his finger slide in further, all the time watching Jim and listening for any change in his breathing to indicate he was getting uncomfortable. But it didn't seem so, and soon the finger was all the way in. It had been quite a while since Sebastian had done this, but it seemed he still remembered. And Jim responded with a surprising ease and eagerness.

Sebastian began sliding his finger in and out in long slow movements. Jim moaned again, and then he started moving a little, pressing down on Sebastian's finger every time it slid back in.

"So eager," Sebastian commented, wondering at the strange tone of his own voice. It sounded eager with just a hint of something dark, almost a threat. He pulled the finger out completely, making Jim whimper at the loss. He let him wait a moment, just to build up anticipation, and then he worked two fingers in.

Jim gasped and then started moving against them again, with more urgency than before. Sebastian had never felt so wanted before, and he had to restrain himself to not just take Jim right then and there. But he knew he couldn't rush this. No matter how eager Jim seemed or how used to this he might be, Sebastian had to make sure he was ready.

Soon, there could be no doubt though. His fingers moved with ease and Jim was panting and gasping in a way that could only be from pleasure. With his free hand, Sebastian grabbed the condom, tore open the foil with his teeth and slid it on. Doing this with one hand was another useful trick that that girl had taught him.

He removed the fingers, but this time Jim didn't even have time to react before the head of Sebastian's cock was pressing against him, slowly slipping inside. Jim groaned and for a moment he tensed. Sebastian fought the urge to soothe him, and instead dug his fingers hard into his hip. It worked, and with a small keening sound, Jim relaxed. Sebastian smiled. This was almost too good to be true, he thought as he started pushing again.

The sensation of sliding into Jim was like nothing he had ever felt before. He was so incredibly tight that Sebastian almost came at once. Yet, he managed to hold back, and soon he was in to the hilt. He paused to watch Jim, for a moment hesitating at the signs of pain in the boy's face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, fearing he had gone too far and too fast.

But Jim nodded vigorously, rocking his hips a little against Sebastian. So he started moving. Only slow small thrusts at first, but as he saw and felt Jim respond, he quickly increased the pace. Jim writhed a little beneath him, and sensing what he wanted, Sebastian leaned over him and grabbed his wrists, once again pinning them to the floor. Jim nodded encouragingly and tried to push down to meet his movements.

"Oh, you really do like it rough, eh?" Sebastian heard himself asking in that same strange voice. "Well, don't worry. You're gonna get it." The gasp these words forced from Jim almost made Sebastian snap. He had to pause for a moment to resist the urge to just fuck him as hard and fast as he could. But he was still not sure if Jim could take it.

Though when he stopped moving, Jim moaned in complaint, and that did it. Sebastian pulled out, grabbed Jim by the arms and pulled him up, only to fling him towards the bed, so he ended up with his chest and stomach on the mattress, his knees on the floor.

Sebastian got behind him, and with a firm grip on his hips pushed in deep and fast. Jim practically screamed, but it did not sound like it was from pain, so Sebastian tested the angle with a few long slow moves and then, digging his fingers in hard, started ramming into him as fast and hard as he could.

Jim was soon moaning and squirming, trying both to push back against Sebastian and to get away. Sebastian's grip held him in place as he continued to fuck him. This was beyond a doubt the greatest shag of his life and Sebastian gave himself completely over to instinct. Soon he could feel the tension beginning to build inside him With a last few violent thrusts he released and groaned with the intensity of his orgasm. Jim whimpered, and as soon as Sebastian had regained his senses, he grabbed him by the hair and pulled him off the bed.

He let himself sink down till he was sitting on his heels, pulling Jim with him. He reached a hand around and grabbed Jim's cock, stroking him fast. It only took a few seconds before Jim came too, spilling over Sebastian's hand with a series of moans that sounded almost like crying.

Sebastian gently eased out of him, but still held him close, kissing his neck and shoulders, all force and demand gone, replaced by a surprising feeling of tenderness towards the boy gasping in his arms.

When he had caught his breath, Jim chuckled softly. "Wow."

Sebastian laughed. "Yeah." Then he asked: "If this was another power play, would you say you won or lost?"

Jim hesitated for a moment, then said, a mischievous note to his voice: "Well, I definitely lost something."


	5. Chapter 5

It took a moment for the meaning of the words to sink in, then Sebastian's insides turned to ice. He pushed Jim off him and got to his feet.

"Are you telling me you were a virgin?" he demanded, surprised at his own apparent anger.

Jim looked up at him with mingled shock and resignation. He nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

Sebastian turned away and fought off the urge to kick something. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now," Jim said defensively.

"Well I bloody well would have liked to know before."

"Why? Wouldn't you have done it if you had known?"

Sebastian considered. He had to admit that it probably wouldn't have stopped him. But still... "I would have gone slower. Been more gentle." He didn't know who he was most angry with. Jim or himself. He should have known. Should have felt it. But he had wanted it so badly, and it had seemed that Jim had wanted it too.

Jim walked over to him and, pressing his chest against his back, wrapped his arms around him. Sebastian tensed.

"That's why I didn't tell you," Jim said, his voice almost a whisper. "I didn't want it to be slow or gentle. I wanted exactly what you gave me. I needed it."

Sebastian removed his arms and turned around to look at him. "Needed?" he asked incredulously.

Jim nodded, meeting his eyes with determination.

"I needed not to think," he said. "I overthink things. But what you did. The way you kissed me, it was like it shut off my brain. I could just feel. I've never felt like that before. So I wanted you. I wanted you to be rough and just take me, because if not, I would have ruined it with thinking." He huffed in irritation. "I don't know how to explain it."

Sebastian frowned. "I think I understand," he said. "I know I don't have a brain like yours, but I felt it too. Like my mind went blank for a moment."

"Exactly." Jim's smile of relief at being understood was the most endearing thing Sebastian had ever seen. He reached for him and pulled him into his arms, kissing the top of his head.

Jim tilted his head up and caught Sebastian's lips and for a long moment they were caught in a very passionate kiss. Jim was not being the least bit passive, but rather hungry and demanding, and Sebastian felt a different kind of stirring inside of him.

When he finally broke the kiss, Sebastian took Jim's hand. "Come here," he said softly and pulled him to the bed. He lifted the duvet and pushed Jim down gently. Then he lay down next to him and snuggled up against him, a possessive arm across his chest. Jim turned so he was lying with his back against Sebastian's chest and sighed happily.

Within minutes, they were both asleep.

…

When Sebastian woke up, it was almost evening. Jim was still lying in his embrace, snoring gently and once again looking impossibly young. If he had not known that the mind and personality hidden within that body were far older than the boy's actual age, he would have been disgusted with himself for what they had done.

Though he just couldn't feel anything but incredibly smug about it. He had known that he had a dominant streak and liked to fuck rough. But in all his fantasies he had never even come close to how mind-blowing it had actually been. The way Jim had just surrendered to him... And it seemed he had almost wanted and needed it more than Sebastian.

It had been the best sex that Sebastian had ever had, and he had a sneaking suspicion that this was something he would want to continue, if only Jim were willing. Well, he thought, only one way to find out.

He started kissing Jim's neck and shoulders gently, and soon he was stirring. He hummed with happiness and turned within Sebastian's embraced, a lazy smile on his lips.

"Hi," Jim said and then kissed Sebastian. It was a very gentle yet passionate kiss, and for a moment Sebastian forgot everything else. For a very long time, the whole world narrowed down to the two of them, their lips and bodies pressed together.

Sebastian couldn't help but smile against Jim's lips. This answered part of his question: he definitely wanted to continue this. In fact he had a sneaking suspicion that he was falling for Jim, and falling hard. And it seemed that Jim might just possibly feel the same way.

Sebastian broke the kiss wanting to ask him, but he didn't know quite how to put it, and before he had figured it out, Jim spoke.

"Is it okay if I take a shower?"

Sebastian smiled and nodded. Then he asked: "Do you want company?"

Jim smiled too. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Sebastian let go of Jim and rose quickly from the bed, going to the dresser to find a clean t-shirt and pants. Discretely, he wrapped up a condom and the bottle of lube in the clothes, making sure to hide it from Jim's line of sight.

Jim sat up on the bed and then winced. Sebastian turned to look at him with a frown, and he grinned sheepishly. Sebastian returned the grin. "Oh yeah, probably should have warned you about that."

Jim laughed. "Like that would have stopped me." He got to his feet carefully and went to pick up his own pants from the floor. Then he reached out a hand for Sebastian, who took it and led him to the bathroom.

Sebastian turned on the shower and while the water ran hot, he pulled Jim close to him. He kissed him with a lot more hunger than he had when they woke up, and he felt both their bodies responding. It was Jim who broke the kiss, and with a mischievous smile he took Sebastian by the hand and led him into the shower.

Jim took a moment to get used to the heat of the water and then he got down on his knees in front of Sebastian, who only had a moment to realise what was going on, before he felt Jim's tongue flicking over the head of his cock. Jim wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly, licking and kissing in between strokes. Sebastian closed his eyes and steadied himself with a hand against the wall.

The sight of Jim going down on his knees had almost been enough to bring him off right then. But the things he was doing were just too delicious. Sebastian was about to ask him to slow down, when Jim took him in his mouth, and, sucking hard, took him almost to the root.

"Fuck!" Sebastian's entire body shook and it was only by slamming his fist painfully into the tiles that he kept himself from coming down Jim's throat. "St... Stop," he stammered.

Jim pulled back and looked up at him, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sebastian laughed breathlessly, as he took Jim's hand and pulled him to his feet. "You did too well," he said. "But I want you."

For a moment Jim looked confused. Then he bit his lip and looked down. "It still hurts," he muttered.

Sebastian's instincts battled each other. On the one hand, under no circumstances did he want to hurt Jim. But then again, the way Jim had knelt there in front of him, the frailness of his body, the wickedness always lurking in his eyes... He just had to have him. Right now.

"I'll be gentle," he promised as he took Jim by the shoulders and turned him, so he was facing the wall. Jim braced himself against the tiles, and then tensed when Sebastian put his hands on his hips. He looked over his shoulder with a frown, when Sebastian crouched down behind him. With his hands, Sebastian spread Jim's cheeks apart and then leaned in and licked his hole once, teasingly.

Jim whimpered and turned to lean his forehead against the wall. "Shit..." he muttered, in a weak, trembling voice, which made Sebastian grin, before he leaned in again and started working Jim open with his tongue. Soon Jim was squirming and moaning, and his muscles relaxed enough for Sebastian to work his tongue inside. Part of his mind was disgusted with what he was doing, but ever since he had heard two older boys talking about rimming he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his mind.

It was as filthy and arousing as he had expected. It was the most intimate he could imagine ever being with another person, and it probably should have felt humiliating, but rather it gave him a sense of power. The way Jim responded clearly proved that he was at this moment completely at Sebastian's mercy.

Jim's knees were going weak, and Sebastian decided that he was relaxed enough to take him without risk of damage, so he pulled back and got to his feet. For a moment, he considered taking Jim like this, pressing him up against the wall, but then decided against it. Not only was Jim much shorter than him, which would make it uncomfortable for both of them, but he also wanted to see Jim as he fucked him.

He put his hands on Jim's shoulders and turned him around, once again marvelling at how he was able to completely surrender control. The level of trust it implied was almost scary. Sebastian pushed Jim back gently, so he was leaning against the wall. He gave him a quick kiss before stepping out of the shower. He found the condom, put it on and applied plenty of lube.

Jim was still leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, his breath coming in quick gasps. Sebastian reached in and turned off the water before stepping in front of Jim. He leaned forward and whispered in his ear: "Hold onto me."

Jim obliged, flinging his arms around Sebastian's neck. Sebastian let his hands slide down to Jim's hips and then on to his thighs. He took hold of them, and lifted him up. As Jim wrapped his legs around his waist, Sebastian positioned him and then very slowly lowered him, letting his cock slide into him.

Jim moaned and clung to Sebastian, who hesitated for a moment, half in. He was about to ask if Jim was okay, when the boy shifted his weight and let himself sink all the way down, until he had taken Sebastian to the root.

"Shit..." Sebastian moaned. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm fine," Jim gasped. "Just give me a second." He rested his head against Sebastian's shoulder.

Sebastian nodded and then bent his head down, so he could kiss Jim's shoulder and neck. Jim purred and after a moment he began rocking his hips a little.

"Better?" Sebastian asked. When Jim nodded, he began to move slowly with small shallow thrusts. Soon, however, he felt Jim responding and he made his movements both longer and faster. Jim rocked his hips, meeting Sebastian's thrusts and taking him deeper and harder. Sebastian realised he couldn't last long, and there was nothing he could do to help Jim come first, needing both hands to support his weight.

Then suddenly Jim shuddered, and to his amazement, Sebastian felt him spilling between them.

The fact that he had made Jim come without either of them touching his cock, was the final straw. Sebastian gasped and thrust deep as he came. Jim went completely limp, no longer helping to hold his own weight. Sebastian's legs were shaking with the effort of holding them both up and he pulled out quickly. He lowered Jim, who untangled his legs and let himself be put down, leaning against the wall.

Sebastian sought Jim's lips and kissed him long and slowly, still short of breath. Jim's arms were still around his neck and as the kiss deepened, Jim clung to him desperately.


	6. Chapter 6

Dorothy Moran slipped the key into the lock with a sigh. Her husband wouldn't be home before morning at the earliest. Still, she could already feel the muscles in her shoulders beginning to tense, her insides growing a little cold. Those times when he was away on business were becoming like little oases in her life. Times when she could relax and maybe even have a little fun. She had been out with friends all day, shopping, having lunch at a café and having a wonderful time, pretending she led a happy life.

But now it was back to the constant state of alert that her life had somehow become. As she entered, she noticed Sebastian's shoes over by the wall. She was glad he was home. Perhaps they could have a pleasant evening together for once.

"Sebby!" she called up the stairs, wondering why the house was so quiet and dark. She heard the bathroom door open, and a moment later her son appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed only in t-shirt and pants, his hair dripping wet. She frowned. He never usually took a shower this early in the evening.

"Ma?" he said. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly seven, honey," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," he sounded nervous. "Just fell asleep, that's all."

He was keeping to the shadows at the top of the stairs but she had a sneaking suspicion. "Sebby," she said, sounding stern but not unkind. "Come down here."

He hesitated a moment but then sighed and came down. As he stepped into the light, she almost laughed.

He scowled at her. "What?"

"Oh honey," she said, her voice bubbling with mirth. "I just haven't seen you blush in… well, in ages." She couldn't resist it, so she reached out and pulled him into a hug. It had been so long since she had held him like this. At least when he wasn't shaking with tears or rage.

"Ma," he complained, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "Let me go."

She released him and took a step back to get a good look at him. The way he avoided her gaze told her everything she needed to know. "Who have you got up there, honey?"

He began to turn away, but she stopped him with a gentle hand of his shoulder.

"It's no-one," he said, and then snorted. They both knew he couldn't hide anything from her. "No-one you know."

She smiled. "No, I guess it's not. And this one is different, am I right?"

His face went blank for a moment, and then it broke into a happy grin that made her heart skip a beat. The type of girl Sebastian usually brought home was not to her liking. Not too bright, giggly but with a tendency to pout. She also suspected that they were not really Sebastian's type, but rather the easy choice. This time something was definitely different. Perhaps he had finally found someone he actually fancied. She desperately hoped so. Her son deserved all the happiness he could get.

"Good for you Sebby," she said giving him another hug. "I won't keep you. Get back to her."

For a moment it seemed he was about to say something. Then he just smiled. "Thanks, ma," he said and hurried up the stairs.

She went into the sitting-room, giving Sebastian a chance to sneak the lucky girl from the bathroom to his own room without them being seen.

She settled on the sofa, put her feet up and closed her eyes for a moment. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, but she didn't want to think about anything right now, other than that her son, at this moment, was happy.

…

Sebastian actually had to put a hand over Jim's mouth as he dragged him into his room, to stifle his almost hysterical giggles.

"Be quiet, you nutter," he hissed, though he too was fighting not to laugh. "She thinks you're a girl."

Jim managed to control himself, until the door was shut and then he broke down completely. "I know," he gasped, overcome with silent laughter. "Maybe I should go clear up that little mistake."

Sebastian tried to scowl, which only made Jim laugh harder. "You will do no such thing. You are not outing me to my mother. Especially not dressed like that."

Jim looked down at his pants which were the only thing he was wearing. "Guess not," he said, still giggling madly. "Could be fun though."

Sebastian punched him playfully. "Behave," he said and then went to find get his cigarettes from the pocket of his discarded trousers. "Join me?" he asked as he took a seat at the window. Jim sat down, leaning a little on Sebastian. He accepted a cigarette from the pack and let Sebastian light it.

They smoked in silence for a while, then Jim turned to look at him. "Will you tell her? Eventually."

Sebastian nodded. "I might as well. She'll figure it out soon enough. I have never been able to hide anything from her."

Jim thought for a moment, then asked: "Will she mind?"

"I don't think so." Sebastian turned and looked Jim in the eyes. "It's not her I'm worried about."

"Your father," Jim said after only a small pause. Sebastian nodded and Jim leaned closer to him, their arms and shoulders pressed together. "You think he will object?"

Sebastian snorted. "I think he will go completely mental. If I'm really lucky he'll yell at me or throw me out of the house. If not..." he couldn't finish the sentence. But from the way Jim tensed, he knew that he understood.

There was a long pause during which they both finished their cigarettes. None of them moved, but just sat there lost in thoughts. Sebastian was, once again, considering the option of just getting the hell out of the house, but as always, he wouldn't know where to go.

But he would soon have to. It wasn't that his father was obsessively homophobic. At least not as far as Sebastian knew. But any behaviour on his part that could possibly be construed as being a provocation was seen and dealt with as such. This surely would not be different. In fact, it might be considered to be so big that he would hurt him badly this time. Perhaps bad enough to get the authorities involved this time. Too bad to cover it up. That at least would put an end to it.

He was so lost in his own worries that he hadn't noticed that Jim had turned to look at him, before he spoke. "I won't let him hurt you."

Sebastian almost laughed. "You?" he said. "What can you do? Even I can't stop him."

"But I can," Jim said. "I have ways..." His voice trailed off, but there had been something in his tone that made Sebastian's insides turn to ice. He didn't think Jim could actually do anything, but he seemed so certain.

Jim kept looking at him until Sebastian turned away. "How bad is it?" he asked. "How far can I go to stop him?"

Sebastian frowned at the questions. "It's bad," he admitted. "Been that way as long as I can remember. When I was little he'd go after my mum, but when I got old enough to get between them, he'd take it out on me instead. I've managed to keep him away from her for almost ten years. When I have to move out, he'll probably go after her again." He closed his eyes, knowing that this was the real reason for him staying put, despite all the excuses he had been making up. He couldn't leave her alone with that man. Never again.

"How far?" Jim repeated.

Sebastian's laugh sounded a little hysterical even to himself. "How far? As far as you need if it means he'll never lay another finger on her."

"Or you," Jim added and got up. He went to the desk and turned on the computer. Then he turned to Sebastian and smiled. "Could you do something for me?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

Jim blushed a little. "Well," he said. "I'm still quite sore. And I need to be sitting at this thing for quite a while, to get this done." He hesitated and then grinned sheepishly. "Could I sit in your lap?"

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle as he got up and went to sit at the desk. Jim settled on him and leaned back as Sebastian put his arms around him and asked. "What are you doing?"

"Fund raising," Jim answered as he began typing.

Sebastian leaned his head against Jim's naked back for a while, just listening to him work and trying not to think too much about what he had meant. To distract himself, he began kissing his was from one shoulder across the neck and on to the other one. Jim hummed absentmindedly and leaned a little into the kisses, but kept working at top speed.

Jim kept working at the computer for six hours. At some point Sebastian fell asleep, his head resting against Jim's back. He was woken by Jim leaning back with a sigh. "There," he said. "That should be enough."

At first Sebastian was confused. Then it came back to him. He gave Jim's back a soft kiss. "What should be enough?" he asked.

"Funds," Jim said enigmatically.

"Funds for what?" Sebastian kissed him again. He knew he should be worried about what Jim was planning, but he was so very sleepy and the soft warm body in his arms was very distracting.

"You don't want to know," Jim said, turning his head so he could kiss Sebastian on the forehead. Immediately, Sebastian raised his head and pressed a long lazy kiss to Jim's lips.

"So you're done," he muttered when they finally broke the kiss. Jim nodded, so Sebastian clamped his arms tighter around Jim's waist and stood up, carrying him with him. As he tossed him on the bed, Jim led out a happy little squeak, clearly thrilled to be handled in such a way. Sebastian followed him down, wrapped his arms around him again and pulled him close, holding him much like he'd held his teddy, back when he was a toddler.

They both sighed contentedly at exactly the same time, which caused them to giggle. The giggles tapered off into slow breathing, which soon changed to snores.

…

Dorothy woke up on the sofa with a sharp pain in her back. She really should stop falling asleep there, her body couldn't take it. She was not exactly a teenager anymore. She glanced at the clock on the wall and was suddenly wide awake. She was late.

She jumped up and was at the door in a second. She would have to grab a cup of coffee at the hospital and do a quick wash in her first break. As she waited for the bus, the nagging feeling of the night before came back. Like there was something she had forgotten or overlooked. But the nagging led to remembering her little moment with Sebastian when she came home and it kept her mind occupied with hopes for her son. Hopes that he would be happy and perhaps even soon move to a place of his own, away from... things.

It wasn't until she had changed into her uniform and was giving an elderly patient a bath, that it struck her. The thing that had been nagging at the back of her mind: next to Sebastian's shoes in the hall had been, not another pair of shoes. Smaller shoes, but ones that did definitely not belong to a girl.


	7. Chapter 7

His wife had forgotten to lock the front door again. If Timothy Moran hadn't already been in a bad mood before arriving home, this certainly would have brought it on. Now it was just one more thing to bother him. When would that woman learn? He had been too easy on her for a long time. He would soon have to remind her what being a good wife meant. If only the brat would stop interfering.

And speaking of the brat, here was another letter from school. Timothy already knew the contents, he suspected. He had been smoking on school grounds again and probably skiving off. A quick glance at the letter confirmed this with the added point of him having been extremely disrespectful to his maths teacher. Right. His wife was at work, so he might as well get started on the boy and deal with her when she came home.

He kicked off his shoes and started up the stairs. The lazy bastard would probably still be in bed at this hour. He seemed to think that weekends were for lying in bed, doing absolutely nothing. Well, in a way it made things easier.

He began unbuckling his belt as he walked down the short upstairs corridor leading to Sebastian's room. This time, he would get a lesson he wouldn't forget so easily. He paused outside his room to wrap the end of the belt around his hand before opening the door.

...

Sebastian woke to the sound of footsteps approaching. He heard the all too familiar jangling of the metal buckle, and had just enough time to pull the covers up over Jim's head before the door opened.

"Father, you're home early..." he began to say, but stopped. The moment he saw the man's eyes, he knew there'd be no talking his way out of this one. There hardly ever was, but today it was clearly bad. Perhaps one of the worst times ever.

Sebastian's father held up an envelope and Sebastian almost sobbed in panic. The letter from school. He had forgotten to set his clock so he could get up and intercept it. And then he really did panic, as he felt Jim stir beside him. Luckily one of his hands was still below the covers, and he managed to find Jim's mouth, once again covering it, hoping desperately that he would understand the situation and keep still. When Jim pressed a silent soft kiss to his palm he relaxed a little. At least Jim would not get involved in this. Still, there was a risk that his father would notice there was someone else in the bed, so to distract him, Sebastian quickly got to his feet.

"What have you got there?" he asked, trying to sound politely interested.

"You know what this is," his father said calmly, stepping into the room. "You just never learn, do you."

Sebastian took a step back. "Father, please." His voice cracked on the last word as he realised that whatever was about to happen, Jim was right there in the room and would hear everything. If there was only some way he could get his father to take him somewhere else, but his mind was filling with white hot panic. He couldn't think.

"Shirt off," his father said. "And turn around, boy."

Sebastian knew there was no point in resisting him. It would only make things worse. Pulling off his t-shirt, he turned to the window and placed his hands on the sill. He remembered sitting here with Jim yesterday. How he had been looking at him, flirting, and Sebastian had been too dense to really pick up on it, until they had tumbled to the floor. He let himself get lost in the memory, hoping it would distract him, if even a little, from what was about to come.

His father let out the familiar groan that meant he was pulling back, getting ready to swing. But instead of the whooshing sound and the stinging pain, there was a rush of fabric and a surprised yelp.

Sebastian spun around in time to see Jim practically crawling up the back of his father who was spinning around trying to reach the boy. Jim had somehow gotten hold of his school tie and was already tightening it around the man's neck.

For a moment, all Sebastian could do was stand and stare. Then his father threw himself back against the wall, crushing Jim against it. Jim cried out in surprise and pain and the sound made Sebastian snap out of it. He looked around the room and his eyes fell on the old cricket bat his grandfather had given him when he was a kid. He grabbed it, took a moment to make sure he wouldn't hit Jim and then swung it as hard as he could.

Just before it impacted with his father's head, Sebastian closed his eyes. There was a sickening crack and then everything went silent for a moment. Then there was a loud thump and he opened his eyes.

Jim was standing with his back to the wall, staring at Sebastian, his eyes round with wonder. There was a thin spray of blood across his face and for a moment Sebastian almost panicked, but then he realised the blood wasn't Jim's. On the floor in front of him lay Sebastian's father, writhing a little, a trickle of blood already colouring the caret around his head.

Sebastian took a step back, raised the bat and swung down on his father's head. This time he did not close his eyes. Or the next time. Or the next.

He did not know how many times he struck. Suddenly he felt Jim's arms around his chest as he pressed himself against his back. "It's alright, Sebastian," he whispered in his ear. "You can stop now. You did well."

Sebastian looked down at the bloody mess in front of him. Then he saw the streaks of blood on his own arms, chest and legs. He closed his eyes and for a moment felt like he was going to faint. But then Jim spun him around with gentle but insisting hands. He pulled his head down and kissed him firmly and Sebastian's mind cleared. It was okay. He wrapped his arms around Jim and pulled him close, kissing him desperately. Jim matched his hunger and with their lips locked together, their arms around each other, they sank to their knees.

Jim placed his hands on Sebastian's shoulders and eased him down on the floor. He leaned over him, kissing his chest and shoulders, while pulling his pants off with one hand. When Sebastian saw Jim suck hard on one of his fingers, he closed his eyes, and a moment later he felt Jim probing and searching for his hole. He gasped as the finger found its target and gently began massaging him. This was a completely new sensation and Sebastian was almost shocked to realise how incredibly good it felt.

Soon his muscles were relaxing, and Jim worked the finger inside. Keeping his eyes closed, Sebastian focused on just feeling Jim's finger inside him, his lips on his body. Then he reached out a hand and after a bit of fumbling found Jim's pants and tried to get them off. Jim helped with his free hand and was soon naked too. As Jim began moving his finger slowly in and out, Sebastian grabbed his cock and began stroking him.

Jim gasped softly and his kisses grew more insistent, the thrusts of his finger more urgent. Sebastian moaned and then opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. As Jim added a second finger, Sebastian leaned in and took him in his mouth.

For a long moment they moved together, focused completely on each other, then Jim pulled his fingers out and Sebastian lay back down on the floor, closing his eyes again. Jim moved to settle between his legs and Sebastian tilted his hips up to meet him. As Jim pushed into him, their lips met and remained locked together as Jim paused. But Sebastian needed him desperately at that moment, and pushed up towards Jim, taking him as deep as he could go. Jim gasped into the kiss and almost pulled back, but with one hand on the back of his head, the other on his waist, Sebastian held him close, deepening the kiss.

After a moment, Jim began moving, and Sebastian couldn't believe how good it felt. He tried pushing up to meet him and soon they had found a common rhythm, their bodies working together to create the most amazingly intense feeling Sebastian had ever experienced. It seemed to go on forever, and he completely forgot everything around them.

When Jim came it was quiet and gentle, the sounds he made almost like sobbing. Sebastian wrapped his arms around him, kissing his face and lips until he lay still. After a moment, Jim pulled out and then moved down to take Sebastian in his mouth. He was already very close, and the pressure of Jim's lips combined with the gentle slide of his tongue pushed him over the edge. Sebastian gasped and dug his fingers into Jim's shoulders, his mind going completely blank for a moment.

He barely registered that Jim was swallowing and then licked him clean before settling down next to him, his head on Sebastian's chest. They lay there for a long time, as their breathing slowly returned to normal, just holding each other. Then Jim snorted.

"Oh god, we look a mess," he said.

Sebastian opened his eyes and looked at his own body. His skin was smeared in bloody streaks and handprints, some of them starting to dry. He knew he should feel shock and revulsion, but all he could manage was mild exasperation. "We sure do," he muttered.

Jim sat up and tugged gently on Sebastian's arm. "Let's get cleaned up," he said.

Sebastian looked at him. Jim looked, if possible, even worse. His face and chest was completely covered in blood and his arms were patterned with streaks and spots, where Sebastian had clung to him. He nodded.

They got to their feet and made their way to the bathroom, Sebastian vaguely registering that they were leaving bloody footprints down the hall.

Once in the shower, Jim took the soap and started cleaning Sebastian meticulously, going over every inch of his skin to make sure there were no traces of blood left. Sebastian winced a little as Jim slid two soapy fingers down the crack of his arse and rubbed his still sore hole.

"I'm sorry," Jim muttered. "But I managed to get you quite messy down there."

Sebastian snorted at the idea and then, as Jim stepped back, took the soap from him. "My turn," he said.

As he was cleaning Jim's back he felt him tense. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Jim sighed. "I'm so sorry," he said.

Sebastian felt his stomach drop. Time to face what had actually happened. "What for?" he asked softly, leaning down to kiss Jim's shoulder.

"I didn't use a condom," Jim said, leaning back against Sebastian a little and then turning to frown at him, when he broke down laughing. "What?" Jim demanded, sounding a little peeved.


	8. Chapter 8

When they were clean and had dried off, they made their way back to Sebastian's room, carefully avoiding the bloody footprints on the carpet. They stood in the door, leaning on each other and surveyed the mess. There seemed to be blood everywhere. On the walls, the bed and particularly the floor.  
Jim frowned at the marks that clearly showed where Sebastian's naked body had lain surrounded by several bloody hand prints. He giggled. ”I wonder what a forensics team would make of that.”  
Sebastian looked too and snorted. ”I don't even want to think about it.”  
They stood a while longer in silence.  
”What are we going to do?” asked Sebastian, beginning to feel very afraid.  
Jim, however, sounded completely calm when he answered. ”Well, obviously we cannot make this look like an accident. And no-one is going to believe it was self-defence either, especially considering... ” He pointed to the incriminating smears with a smile. ”Everything here points to you, I'm afraid.”  
Sebastian was thinking that once investigations began, Jim would soon be implicated too, but chose not to speak.  
”I think,” Jim said, ”that our best option is to destroy the scene and make ourselves scarce.”  
”Scarce?” Sebastian frowned at him. ”Do you mean...?”  
Jim nodded. ”Run away. Go underground, so to speak.”  
Sebastian thought about this. He had wanted to leave home for a long time, and he had no qualms about leaving the town too. But like this?  
He had so many questions that he did not know where to start. ”How?” he finally managed.  
Jim turned and looked at him seriously. ”Last night,” he said. ”I raised some money, to pay for someone to take care of your father.” Sebastian started to speak, but Jim hushed him with a finger to his lip. ”You ended up doing the job, so it is only fair that you get the money. It should be enough to get you started and even buy you a temporary identity.”  
Sebastian's mind was lumbering behind, trying to catch up with what Jim was saying. ”How...” he began, but choked on the words. He swallowed and tried again. ”How much?”  
”Ten thousand pounds,” Jim answered offhandedly, as he carefully stepped around the blood on the floor, to get to the dresser. He opened a drawer and started picking out some clothes.  
”Ten thousand...?” Sebastian sputtered. ”Are you serious?”  
Jim nodded and turned with a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a jumper. ”Is this okay?” he asked. Sebastian had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded anyway. Jim smiled and made his way back, placing the clothes in Sebastian's arms. ”Get dressed,” he said and stood on tiptoes to kiss Sebastian quickly. ”I have to borrow some of yours,” he said as he went back into the room.  
Sebastian nodded again, and then finally caught up. As he got dressed, he watched Jim pick out a pair of pull string sweatpants and an old t-shirt that had really been too small for Sebastian for years, but that he had kept because it was a souvenir from a trip to the zoo, which had been the last thing he had done with his grandmother. Jim joined him in the hall and put on the clothes.  
Sebastian had to laugh. Jim looked even younger, if possible. The boy frowned at him, which only made Sebastian laugh harder. Jim was absolutely irresistible like this, and Sebastian had no choice but to pull him close and kiss his slightly pouting lips. “You look positively precious,” he teased, making Jim huff and try to punch him.  
They had a brief, slightly giggly scuffle, that ended up with Jim pinned to the wall by his wrists, his eyes going slightly hazy as Sebastian kissed him hungrily. Jim pressed up against Sebastian, and one thing might very well have led to another had they not been startled by the sound of the front door opening.  
They stared at each other in panic as Sebastian's mother called. “Sebby? Are you there?”  
With a meaningful glare at Jim, Sebastian hurried to the stairs. “I'm up here mum,” he called, and hurried down so she wouldn't come up. “Why are you home so early?”  
…  
Dorothy sighed in relief when she saw Sebastian. Her son had a bounce in his step and a distinct 'ruffledness' to his hair that told her that his father had not been near him yet. She reached out a hand to him. “Honey,” she said with a smile as he approached her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”  
He blushed again. Oh, how she loved to see him like this. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It's okay, honey,” she whispered. “But you should tell me yourself.”  
Sebastian looked down and swallowed hard. Then he met her eyes and she was startled to see the panic lurking just underneath the surface. Did he really think she wouldn't be okay with this? Or was he already thinking what would happen when his father found out?  
Then a voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “Sebastian?” The voice was light and sounded very young, but it was not a girl. She gave Sebastian's hand a little squeeze and went over to have a look.  
For a moment she was shocked. The boy could not be older than twelve. But then he stepped into the light and she saw that it was just an illusion created by his slight frame and the oversized clothes he was wearing. Sebastian's clothes, she noted with a smile. The boy took a tentative step down the stairs, looking both nervous and curious.  
Sebastian appeared at her side. “Mum,” he said, his voice shaking a little, “this is Jim.” He nodded to the boy who continued descending the stairs, still looking quite shy. “He's a year below me at school.”  
She looked closer at the boy. That would make him 18. He was no child, but still...  
Jim seemed to read her expression. “I was moved up a couple of years,” he said, blushing a little. “I'm 16.”  
“Oh,” she said, unable to formulate a better reply as several thoughts whirled through her head at the same time. 16 was very young, but not too young. Moved up a couple of years meant he must be quite clever. He looked really sweet. The way he looked at Sebastian... Like he was absolutely completely smitten.  
“Oh, my dear boy,” she finally managed and held out both hands to him. Jim came down the final step and took them in his. She held him out for a moment and looked at him. Then she pulled him in for a hug which he returned after only a moment's hesitation. “You are absolutely adorable,” she whispered in his ear, so quietly that Sebastian wouldn't hear it. “Thank you for making my son so happy.”  
Jim pulled back, blushing even more. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Moran,” he mumbled, looking at his feet.  
She chuckled. “Oh please, call me Dorothy,” she said, and smiled at him before turning to Sebastian. She hugged him too and for a moment he clung to her so tightly, she could hardly breathe. “Thanks, mum,” he muttered. “You are the best.”  
It was her turn to pull back and blush. “I'm sorry to disturb you boys,” she said. “But I really need to talk to Sebastian.”  
Jim nodded. “Of course, Mrs... Dorothy.” He looked at Sebastian, hesitated and then reached up and kissed his cheek softly. “I'll wait in your room.”  
Mother and son watched him go, both smiling fondly, before Dorothy took Sebastian's hand and led him over to the sofa. “Sit down dear,” she said.  
He obeyed her with a tired sigh, and she felt her insides clench at the dread of having to ruin some of his happiness. But it had to be done. She took his hand. “Honey...” she began.  
“I know,” he answered hurriedly. “Dad can't find out, I'm no idiot.”  
Her smile was almost painful. “I know you're not, honey, and I wish I could tell you to be happy and to just be yourself. But you have to be more careful.”  
He looked about to panic again. “Careful?”  
“Yes, honey. Even small things. Like Jim's shoes. Next to yours. If I noticed them, he probably will too.” She considered a moment. “Where is he, anyway? I thought he'd be home by now.”  
Sebastian shrugged. “I haven't seen him. But Jim and I only just woke up. Maybe he went out. Or maybe he's been delayed.”  
He wouldn't meet her eyes and she couldn't blame him. Neither of them looked forward to Timothy's return. Especially not now that Sebastian had found someone who obviously made him happy.  
She reached out and took his hand again. “I have to get back to work. Just... bring his shoes up to your room and be careful, okay, honey?”  
“I will, mum,” Sebastian answered and then he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I promise, I will not let him hurt neither Jim nor me.”  
She gave him a final hug. “Give Jim my love, will you?” she said. “He really is a darling.”  
Sebastian blushed. “Yes,” he said. “He is.”  
…  
As soon as the door closed behind his mother Sebastian rushed up the stairs. “Jim!” he called as he reached the top step. Jim stood in the open door to his room, smiling.  
“I've taken care of it,” he said, holding up an empty plastic bottle that Sebastian vaguely recognised as some kind of cleaner.  
“Taken care of what?” he asked. Then he noticed the lit cigarette in Jim's hand. For a second he was annoyed about it. He had told Jim not to smoke in the house. Then the absurdity of the thought struck him and only moments later, he realised what Jim was doing. He reached out a hand as Jim lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag.  
As Jim blew out the smoke, he flicked the cigarette over his shoulder into Sebastian's room. Then he ran forward and grabbed Sebastian's hand. As they rushed down the stairs, he heard the roar of the flames behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

Jemima let herself fall down on her bed. She was exhausted. She had been training all yesterday, and then, just when she was getting ready for the night, she had gotten the call. Her first real job. It had taken her almost a year to convince her employers that she was both smart and skilled enough to go out on her own, and finally she had gotten the chance. So she was not about to turn it down on account of being worn out.

It had not been an easy job either. The target had been nervous and frustratingly careful. But finally she had managed to corner him alone, and in no uncertain terms convinced him that if he did not pay his debt within the next forty-eight hours, he would be very very sorry. She had even managed to get a small instalment right then and there, which she had been commended for when she delivered it along with her report.

All in all it had been a good night, but morning was creeping towards noon before she finally made it home. She tiptoed past Jim's room, not wanting to wake him. He had not been in yet when she had left, so he probably needed his sleep. She had just closed her eyes when she heard the front door open.

Instantly she was wide awake. Who could it be? Father should not be home before late afternoon. Could it be Jim? Had he not come in at all? Concerned, she got to her feet and went out to the landing looking down into the hall. It was Jim alright, dressed absolutely ridiculously in clothes that were far too big. And he was with that cute friend of his, Moran.

Jim looked up at her and grinned. "Morning Sis," he said. "We need to talk."

As she made her way down the stairs, Jim led Moran into the kitchen. "I just need to feed Sebastian first," he called over his shoulder.

Jemima frowned. Moran seemed dazed. What had they been up to? She wouldn't put it past Jim to have gotten the poor guy drunk. He'd better not have been messing with drugs. She'd told him time and again that she would beat the crap out of him if he ever went near that stuff.

Jim quickly made Sebastian a sandwich, handed him a coke and led him to a chair. "Eat, honey," he said and kissed his cheek before turning to Jemima, who couldn't help gaping at him. He winked and hurried to her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the hall and up the stairs.

"Are you two..." she began to ask, but he shushed her and grinned wickedly.

Once they were in her room, the door closed behind them, Jim grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a wet eager kiss to her lips. She pushed him away with a laugh. "Nice try, little brother. Start talking."

Jim squirmed a little, then his face broke into a wide smile. "I shagged him, Sis... I actually shagged Sebastian."

She couldn't help but snort at his enthusiasm. "Good for you," she said.

"And he shagged me," Jim went on with childish enthusiasm. "Twice... and it was so good... I mean, wow... I would never have believed it." He went over to her bed and threw himself down on his back, grinning at the ceiling. "It was just amazing."

"Oh yeah?" she said teasingly, as she lay down beside him. "Best you ever had?"

He turned onto his side to face her. "No, of course not, Sis," he said. "Just different." He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek. Then he leaned over and kissed her, more passionately this time. She smiled against his lips and then reached an arm around him and pulled him closer. "So you're a proper little bender now?" she muttered.

He broke the kiss for a second and snorted. "Oh yeah, because I'd only ever shag boys, right?" He reached down and got his hand up under her shirt, running his fingers over her stomach teasingly.

"Well, you'd better not be shagging any other girls," she smirked as she pulled on the string that had been holding the oversized sweatpants up on his narrow hips. Then she reached inside and found that he wasn't wearing any pants. "I sense you're in the mood for celebrating."

"You got it, Sis," he said eagerly, and pushed her onto her back. He quickly got her jeans and panties off her, pushed up her shirt and began kissing her stomach. With a sigh, she relaxed and closed her eyes. Slowly he worked his way down, biting softly on her hip before sinking down between her thighs. She bent her knees and spread her legs to give him room and then moaned happily as his skilled tongue got to work. He had really become very good at this, she mused as she let herself relax and just enjoy it. Then suddenly he pressed a finger into her and within moments she was close to orgasm.

"Shit, Jim" she gasped. "Give a girl a chance, would you?"

But he just crooked his finger, instantly finding the spot and then with a few quick flicks of his tongue he sent her over the edge. Even through the waves of pleasure she sensed him moving and knew what was coming. The moment her muscles relaxed he pushed into her.

"You little shit," she gasped, laughing. "Why do you always do that?"

Jim just chuckled as he started moving slowly. She reached for his head and pulled him down to kiss him.

Afterwards as they lay panting, their limbs still tangled together, he said sheepishly: "By the way Sis, there's something I forgot to tell you."

…

Sebastian had not really tasted the sandwich, but just eaten it because he didn't know what else to do. Jim and Jemima had been gone an awfully long time, but then again, it was a pretty serious situation. Jim had promised that his sister would be able to help them get away. Sebastian still hadn't quite gotten his mind around what had happened and the fact that they were now fugitives from the law. Or as Jim put it: 'lying low for a while'.

Jim had assured him that the fire was the best solution. It would destroy all detailed evidence of what exactly had gone on in Sebastian's room and it would take quite a while before it was known for certain that he had not been in the house when it burned. That would give them several days, perhaps even a couple of weeks, before any serious search for him would begin. Jim might never even be connected to the death, but he insisted on coming with Sebastian anyway.

"I don't have anything to stay here for," he had said. "Except my sister, and she's never really around anymore."

So here he was, with nothing left in the world, but the clothes he was wearing and the ten thousand pounds that Jim promised him were waiting in a bank account. And then Jim of course. As they had run from the burning house, that had somehow felt as the only important thing. Now he wasn't so sure anymore.

Yes, he might have been falling for Jim. They certainly had had some spectacular sex together and he wouldn't mind having a lot more of it. But going underground together? Heading into the unknown and starting a new life? Did he really know Jim well enough for that? Hell, the boy was smart, maybe even brilliant, but he was only sixteen. And as mad as a hatter, Sebastian suspected at times. What on earth had he gotten himself into?

His thoughts kept moving in circles, until he was startled by the very abrupt appearance of Jemima Moriarty in the door to the kitchen.

"Please tell me that my idiotic baby brother is lying," she demanded. "You did not just kill your father and burn down your house, did you?"

"Well," Jim said appearing behind her. "He killed his father. I burned down the house."

Sebastian just stared at them, completely lost for words.

…

As Ardan Moriarty opened the door, he sensed the house was empty. So the children were out again. Seemed like they were always out. He left his suitcase by the stairs and went into the kitchen to make tea. He had just filled the pot and was waiting for the tea to steep when he heard the door open.

Jemima stepped into the kitchen. "You're home," she said coolly.

He nodded. "Yes, I am." He gestured at the pot. "Tea will be ready in a few minutes."

"I don't want tea," she snapped. "I just thought I'd tell you, James is gone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Gone?" he said. "What do you mean, gone?"

Jemima shrugged. "He's just gone. Not coming back, ever again." She turned and left.

Ardan stood for a moment pondering her words. Then he turned and poured himself a cup of tea.

…

Jim was snoring gently, pressed up against Sebastian, who sat wide awake staring out the window at the countryside flying by. How did he get here? A thousand pounds in his pocket, Jim in his arms, on a train bound for London. When did this become his life?

He looked down at the sleeping boy who muttered something and snuggled even closer. It was as if Sebastian's heart melted. He bent his head down and kissed the top of Jim's head softly. He would miss his mother, but that was the only thing he was sorry he had to leave behind. And what was he heading for? He had no idea, but if he was together with Jim, it would definitely not be boring.

Jim stirred again and opened his eyes. "Are we there yet?" he asked sleepily.

"No, not yet," Sebastian said, smiling down at him.

Jim sat up straight and stretched. "Sorry I nodded off," he said. "It was just so very comfortable."

"Don't worry about it," Sebastian said. "You look cute when you're sleeping."

"I'm not cute." Jim pouted, making Sebastian laugh.

"Yes, you are," he said teasingly. "Especially when you do that?"

"Do what?" Jim asked.

Sebastian just laughed, pulled him close and kissed him, drawing a scandalised squeak from the elderly woman across the aisle. Jim pulled out of the kiss and looked over at her.

"Do you have a problem with me snogging my boyfriend?" he asked.

The woman huffed and turned away.

Giggling Jim turned to Sebastian and promptly started kissing him again.

This time it was Sebastian who pulled away. "Is that what I am?" he asked.

"What?" Jim looked a little confused.

"Your boyfriend?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," Jim grinned smugly. "Well. Yeah. Aren't you?"

Sebastian thought for a moment. Then he smiled. "Yes," he said. "I suppose I am." Then he kissed Jim again, and didn't stop before they pulled into Waterloo Station.


	10. Chapter 10

Jemima got out of the cab and looked around. Why of all places had her brother chosen to live in the East End? Surely he could afford better than this dump. The narrow terraced house looked old and worn, the paint on the door was peeling, the small garden out front covered in weeds.

She went up to the door and smirked at the names on the plate. J and S Morris? Were they posing as brothers? She chuckled softly as she knocked. Surely no one would believe that.

Jim opened the door. He was dressed in faded jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Probably Sebastian's. At first glance he hadn't aged a bit, but then she noticed that the stubble on his sleepy face had spread since last she saw him. And he had grown almost an inch.

"Mr Morris, I presume?" she said with a smirk.

For a moment he just gaped at her. Then his face broke into a huge grin. "Sis!" he cried, and pulled her into a rib-cracking hug. He pulled her inside, kicked the door closed and then pushed her up against the wall in a desperately hungry kiss. When they finally broke apart, he stepped back to look at her.

"Oh my god, you're hot," he said. "When did you become a woman?"

She smiled and shrugged. "Sometime during the two years you've been hiding, I guess." She studied him. "You're still a brat though."

He snorted. "Right, and don't you forget it. I am still a teenager, and Sebastian's been out of town for two days, so you are really in for it." He surged forward, pressing his lips against hers and urgently unzipping her leather jacket. For a moment she returned the kiss as eagerly, then she gently pushed him away.

"Can't this wait a moment?" she asked. "How about catching up?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked as he kissed her again. He grabbed her jacket with both hands and pulled her off the wall, then he bent down and swooped her up in his arms. She squealed in surprise and clung to him.

"When the hell did you get so strong?" she asked as he carried her towards the stairs.

He chuckled. "Fighting off Sebastian on an almost daily basis is an excellent way to get in shape."

"Why on earth do you fight him off?" She laughed and leaned in to suck on his neck as he began ascending the steps slowly.

"Because it's so much better when he gets insistent," Jim said with a wicked grin. He carried her down a short corridor, shouldered a door open and entered a small bedroom, where almost all the floor was taken up by a huge luxurious bed.

"That is just so typical you," Jemima said, the moment before she was unceremoniously dumped on the bed. "The house is falling apart, but everything's got to be perfect for shagging." She rolled over on the bed and bounced a few times to test the springs. "It really is perfect."

"I know," Jim said, pulling off his t-shirt before flopping down next to her. "Cost a minor fortune, but never tell Sebastian. He thinks I got it second hand."

She frowned at him as she pulled off her top. "Why on earth would he think that?"

He leaned in to kiss her stomach and slide the straps of her bra off her shoulders. "Because I told him," he muttered.

"Yes, so I figured," she laughed, twitching a little. "But why tell him that?"

Jim snickered and moved up to kiss her breasts as he pushed the bra out of the way. "Because I don't want him to know exactly how much money I've made over the past two years. If he did, he'd want to quit his job, and I can't have him hanging around here all day. I'd go crazy."

She giggled and pushed herself up enough to get a hand round her back and unhook the clasps. "You're cruel," she said.

"I know. Just another of my lovable features," he smirked before licking one of her nipples.

She closed her eyes and moaned softly, her fingers playing with his hair. "Fuck..." she muttered. "I'd almost forgotten that tongue of yours..."

"Don't worry," he said as he moved to her other nipple. "It hasn't forgotten you," he licked once, "or how you taste," he licked again, "or what you like."

Eyes still closed she smiled and tugged gently on his hair. "I remember a few things you like as well," she murmured.

He pushed a little against her hand and made a purring sound as he took the nipple between his lips, sucking gently.

Lazily, she began unbuttoning his jeans and managed to push them and his pants down enough to reach his cock with her hand, without dislodging his mouth. As she began to stroke him, he flicked his tongue, making her groan. "You little shit," she said lovingly.

He giggled and sat up for a moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the movements of her hand. Then he pulled away and crawled down to remove her jeans and panties. Once he had her naked, he settled between her legs. Obligingly she spread them further, bending her knees. He leaned down and after a few teasing flicks started licking her in earnest.

"It really does remember," she moaned as he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her. "I can't believe I managed two years without that."

Jim didn't answer but replaced his tongue with his finger, thrusting slowly. He shifted a little and she guessed his intentions. "Don't you dare," she snarled and tried to glare at him, but it soon became impossible as he found the right spot and at the same time began sucking on her clit.

She tried to fight it, but soon had to give up. As her climax topped, he pounced forward and thrust into her, just as the last waves began subsiding. "You fucking bastard," she groaned. "Do you have any idea how sensitive I am just then?"

He giggled as he began moving. "Do you have any idea how tight you get?"

She snorted and punched him playfully. "Prat!"

"Slut!" he answered lovingly, and then kissed her passionately as he settled into long slow thrusts.

Jemima closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy feeling Jim inside her after such a long time. When she'd put him on the train, she would never have believed that she would not see him for two years. She had had every intention of following him and Sebastian to London, but after her successful job on the night before the boys took off, she had seen a sudden increase in business and had been kept busy for several months, collecting money and issuing warnings. And then, out of the blue, she'd been offered an opportunity she could not turn down.

She had been sent to Russia for training and had learned to shoot and fight at a whole new level. Now she was qualified to work as an assassin, and had only this week arrived back on British soil, her first job already outlined in a grey cardboard folder hidden at the bottom of her bag.

She had found herself a place to live down town, had renewed old contacts and then tracked her brother down. And here she was, her arms and legs wrapped around his still slender but significantly stronger body. In many ways it was like no time had passed. And yet, everything was different. In the old days surely she would never have let her mind wander like this when they were shagging.

As if he read her thoughts, he stopped moving. "What's wrong?" he asked, raising himself up enough to look her in the eyes.

She bit her lip and almost laughed at the look of concern in his eyes. "It's nothing," she said. "It's just so good to finally feel you again. I got kind of lost in it."

"Well, it's good feeling you too, Sis," Jim said with a smile. "Now would you mind paying attention while I'm shagging you? I'd hate to think it was all going to waste."

This time she did laugh, and it only got worse at the miffed look on his face. To stop herself, she reached up and pulled him down by his hair crushing their lips together. He growled into the kiss and began thrusting harder and faster.

Soon, he had her moaning and squirming, giving him her undivided attention as she hurled towards her second orgasm. It hit her full force and she barely registered that he followed only seconds after, clinging to her and crying her name.

They lay for a long time in a pleasant tangle of sheets and limbs, their skin glistening from the cooling sweat, their heart rates slowly returning to normal. Jim lazily kissed her shoulders and neck while she let her fingers slide through his short soft hair. Soon she drifted off and when she woke up an hour later, she was alone in the bed.

She retrieved her shirt and panties and put them on before going to search for Jim.

She found him in a small room at the end of the upstairs corridor. There were several locks on the door, but it stood slightly ajar and as she pushed it open, she gasped. The bed was clearly not the only extravagant thing in the house. Two walls of the room where lined with computer monitors, the third with the machines themselves. She spotted at least four separate modems and several pieces of hardware of which she had no idea what they were for.

She was so overwhelmed by the blinking lights and flickering lines of code, that it took a moment for her to realise that Jim was sitting, reclined in a large black leather chair in the middle of the room, a keyboard balanced on each armrest, typing away with both hands. After staring in fascination for a moment, she cleared her throat. Jim grunted in acknowledgement but didn't slow down his typing.

Jemima waited and after several minutes, Jim's fingers stopped and he turned to look at her. For a moment his eyes seemed almost alien in their intent stare, then he smiled and it was gone. "Welcome to my office," he said with a grin.

She walked slowly to the chair, trying to take it all in, but she just couldn't grasp that much information. "So this is what you've been up to?" she asked, a note of awe in her voice.

"Yup." He moved one of the keyboards aside and pulled her down into his lap. "I'm getting quite good at it."

She snorted. "Quite good my arse. You're a motherfucking hacking genius, aren't you."

He smiled modestly. "So I've been called," he admitted.

She glanced around again, then looked him straight in the eyes and asked seriously: "How much?"

Jim hesitated, or rather, she realised, paused for effect. "If things go as planned I'll be rounding one mill by the end of the week."

"Bloody hell," she laughed. "My baby brother, the millionaire."

He blushed a little and looked away. "Only if my new worm works out."

"Worm?" she frowned for a moment then hurried to add: "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

He grinned. "We should celebrate," he said. "This Saturday. You, me and Sebastian. I'll treat us all to a nice dinner and we can go back here... or to a fancy hotel and you can finally get to shag him."

She grinned at the prospect, but then the smile faltered. "I can't," she said. "I've got a job out of town that may take several weeks."

He pouted a little and then wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her side. "When you come back, then."

"When I come back," she promised, and kissed the top of his head. Then she grinned. "I don't have to leave until tomorrow, though."

Hardly a minute later, he had her bent over the back of the chair, laughing and gasping, as he fucked her as if his life depended on it.


	11. Chapter 11

”What are you so damn happy about?”  
Sebastian had hardly made it through the door before he was ambushed by a very giggly and flushed Jim, who was kissing him hungrily. He literally had to push him away and hold him at arm’s length to be allowed to breathe.  
”Nothing much,” Jim said, grinning. ”I found some money in a purse someone had left on the bus. Nearly a hundred pounds. Thought we could go out to celebrate.”  
Sebastian laughed. ”'Left'... right.”  
Jim glared at him for a moment, then his face broke into a wide grin. ”Yeah... kinda...”  
Sebastian shook his head. ”You're impossible,” he said as he went to dump his bag on the sofa. ”Is that the kind of thing you get up to, whenever I'm out of town?”  
Jim just shrugged, following him. As Sebastian turned to face him again, Jim pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. ”So? Do you want to? Go out?”  
”Sure,” Sebastian pulled him into a hug. ”Where? The pub?”  
Jim shook his head before snuggling closer, resting his cheek against Sebastian's broad chest. ”Something fancy,” he said. ”Like a real restaurant. And maybe go see a play.”  
”A play?” Sebastian frowned. ”You want to go see a play?”  
Jim blushed a little. ”Not really. I just want to do something special. With you.”  
Sebastian thought for a moment. ”Let's do the fancy restaurant bit. And then we'll see what we feel like doing after. How's that?”  
Jim beamed and then kissed him. ”Perfect.” He took his hand and began hauling him towards the stairs. ”I've got something for you.”  
Sebastian followed, curious to see what Jim had come up with now.  
On their bed were two brand new suits. The large one was dark blue, a colour Jim always said complimented Sebastian's eyes. The smaller one was grey with a matching waistcoat. Sebastian stared. ”You're kidding me, right?”  
Jim looked at him. ”You like them?”  
Sebastian shook his head. ”I don't know... There so… different.” He ran a hand through his hair. ”Jesus Jim, they must have cost a fortune.”  
Jim giggled, almost nervously. ”I got a great discount. Guy I did a favour, a while back.”  
Sebastian frowned at him. ”What kind of favour?”  
”Nothing bad,” Jim said hurriedly. ”Or sexual, if that's what you're thinking. I just helped him out of a tight spot and he wanted to pay me back.”  
Sebastian laid an arm around Jim's shoulders. ”Of course I don't think that. I know you flirt with anything with a pulse, but I don't think you'd shag someone for a couple of suits.”  
Jim gave him a little shove. ”Try it on,” he urged. ”There's a shirt in the closet.” He went over and picked up the grey suit. ”I'll be right back.”  
Sebastian heard Jim hurry to the bathroom. With a grin he pulled off his t-shirt and then his jeans. He got clean underwear and black socks from the dresser and then, a little hesitantly, put on the shirt and then the suit. It felt odd. He had never worn anything like that. He had expected it to feel uncomfortable, maybe even a little silly. But it didn't. He felt... handsome. He straightened the jacket and studied himself in the mirror.  
Then he heard a gasp from the door and turned to look.  
Jim stood there, wearing the grey three piece suit and looking absolutely dashing. For once he actually looked his age and not like a little kid with old eyes. Right now his eyes were round and eagerly taking in every detail of Sebastian's appearance.  
”You look amazing,” he muttered. ”And fucking hot!”  
Sebastian blushed and grinned. ”You look pretty good yourself,” he said. ”So good, in fact, that if we don't head out right now, that suit will be coming off in a matter of minutes.”  
Jim grinned as he went to stand right in front of him. He got up on his toes, wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck and pulled him down for a deep hungry kiss.  
Sebastian moaned and grabbed Jim's hips, pressing their bodies together, where they were both already responding to the kiss. Then suddenly Jim pulled away. He winked and laughed, then spun around and darted out of the room.  
”You dirty little slut,” Sebastian growled as he hurried after him. Jim giggled madly as he practically flew down the stairs only a few feet ahead of Sebastian who was trying desperately to get a hold of him. Jim reached the front door, but before he could open it, Sebastian caught up with him and used his whole weight to trap him against it. Jim gasped as all the air was forced from his lungs and then whimpered when Sebastian stepped back and spun him around.  
”Why do you always think you can get away with something like that?” Sebastian snarled, grabbing Jim by the collar.  
”Watch...” Jim panted, ”the suit....”  
Sebastian snorted. ”Fine,” he said. ”I won't hurt your precious suit.” He forced Jim to his knees and quickly unzipped his own trousers. ”We'll do this the easy way then,” he purred as he pushed his pants aside and released his half hard cock.  
Jim looked up at him for a moment, his eyes gleaming. Then he closed them and leaned in to take Sebastian in his mouth. Sebastian tangled his fingers in Jim's hair and moaned as he felt himself growing completely hard. He gave Jim a moment to get the angle right, and then he held his head and started thrusting slowly. Jim let out a small shaky sigh and then relaxed, letting Sebastian fuck his mouth.  
Sebastian gripped his hair a little tighter. ”Suck,” he commanded, and Jim obediently hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, following the rhythm of Sebastian's thrusts. Sebastian took his time, knowing that Jim was enjoying this as much as, possibly more than, he was.  
But he couldn't last forever. Eventually the soft warm wetness of Jim's mouth and the positively filthy looks he kept sending him through lowered lashes became too much. But there was one thing Sebastian really wanted to do.  
“Can we try again?” Sebastian asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.  
Jim looked up at him, his eyes round with doubt for a moment. Then he hummed in affirmation, closed his eyes and changed the angle again.  
Sebastian took his head between his hands and slowly pushed in further. Jim gulped and flattened his tongue, letting Sebastian's cock slide slowly down his throat. “Fuck....” Sebastian groaned as he started doing short slow thrusts. “Let me know if it's too much.”  
Jim blinked quickly, his eyes watering a little. Then he hummed again. The vibration damn near sent Sebastian over the edge. “Oh my god...” he groaned. “Don't do that again...” Then he laughed. “Second thought... do that again.”  
Obediently, Jim hummed again, this time deeper. Sebastian's whole body trembled and he cried out as he came down Jim's throat. Jim choked a little and Sebastian quickly pulled out and knelt down. He took Jim's face between his hands and studied him intently. “Are you okay?” he asked.  
Jim nodded, his eyes still closed, two tears slowly sliding down his cheeks. He swallowed hard. “It was just...” he gulped. “Just a little unfamiliar...”  
“Unfamiliar,” Sebastian almost snorted. “It was bloody brilliant. I can't believe you did that. For me.”  
Jim wiped the moisture from his cheeks. “So, it was good?”  
“Good?” Sebastian leaned in and kissed him. “It was mind blowing.”  
“I'll do anything for you,” Jim said, kissing him again. “You know that.”  
Sebastian smiled at him, stroking his cheeks gently with his thumbs. “I do. I just have no idea why.”  
Jim smiled at him. Then he reached forward and tucked Sebastian back into his pants and zipped up his trousers. “How's my hair?” he asked. Sebastian grinned and tried flattening it a bit with his hand.  
“It looks like someone grabbed you by it and raped your throat,” he admitted.  
Jim giggled. “Absolutely adorable then?”  
“Precisely.” Sebastian kissed him and then got to his feet, pulling Jim along. “Now let's go scandalize some fancy restaurant,” he said.  
…  
Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off Jim. He knew that he'd been raised in a posh home, but he had never seen this side of him in action. His table manners were impeccable, making Sebastian feel clumsy as they ate. But Jim kept smiling at him and joking and doing his best to put him at ease.  
The food was very different from what Sebastian was used to. Different spices, different textures and definitely different portion sizes. When they got to the desert, he still felt like he had hardly begun. But he supposed stuffing yourself wasn't the goal of fine dining. As he scraped the small spoon over the plate trying to gather the last of the delicious white chocolate sauce, he suddenly felt something touch his leg.  
From the mischievous look in Jim's eyes, there could be no doubt that it was his foot. He had clearly taken off his shoe, and now he was sliding his foot along Sebastian's thigh, heading for his crotch. Sebastian batted the foot away with a smile.  
“Not here,” he hissed.  
Jim pouted. “Why not?”  
“Because we'll get thrown out, you nutter. And I don't want to ruin a perfect evening.”  
Jim beamed at him as he lowered his foot. “You really think it's been perfect?”  
Sebastian nodded. “So far,” he said.  
Jim straightened up a little. “So what do you want to do now? See a play? A film? Dancing?”  
Sebastian shook his head. “I want to go home,” he said. “And be shagged senseless by my beautiful boyfriend while he's still wearing that waistcoat, because... damn that is hot.”  
Jim blushed furiously and signalled for the waiter.  
…  
A few hours later, they lay tangled in the sheets in the huge comfortable bed. Jim was still wearing his shirt and waistcoat, though both were unbuttoned. Sebastian was, to his great bemusement, wearing a single sock.  
“That was.... good,” Jim mused.  
Sebastian snorted. “That's one way of putting it. Bloody awesome would be another.”  
Jim smirked. “You were very... enthusiastic...”  
“Says you.” Sebastian rolled over and wrapped his arms around him. “I just don't understand how you can last that long.”  
“Mind over matter, honey,” Jim purred as he kissed Sebastian's forehead. “Mind over matter... And I had a wank in the loo at the restaurant before we left.”  
“Prat,” Sebastian grinned as he got to his knees and began tickling Jim.  
“Stop that, you big bully!” Jim screamed as he squirmed, laughed and flailed, trying to get hold of Sebastian's wrists.


	12. Chapter 12

Jemima tried the door. Open. She really had to teach her brother a few things about safety. She stepped in and dropped her bag by the door. Then she listened for a moment and grinned. Apparently Sebastian was home this time.

She stepped out of her boots and tiptoed up the stairs. She paused outside the door to the bedroom, considering, very briefly, if she should knock. A soft groan made her change her mind. Smiling, she pushed the door open. The sight that met her was absolutely priceless.

Sebastian was lying on his back, with Jim on top of him, snogging him heartily. Sebastian had a rather possessive arm around Jim's neck, holding him down and Jim's hands were sliding along Sebastian's upper arms, clearly appreciating the smooth skin stretched over the muscles, which were, if possible, even more defined than when Jemima had seen him last. Jim shifted a little and the sheet slid off him, giving her a quite exquisite view of his rather shapely bum. She bit her lip, waiting.

Jim was grinding against Sebastian, and as she had expected, his hand began moving slowly down from Jim's neck over his back and towards his arse, the fingers aiming for the crack. Just when they had reached their goal, she cleared her throat.

Jim sat up and turned to look. He smiled widely and was just about to speak, when Sebastian pushed him off and quickly covered himself up.

"Sis!" Jim exclaimed. "Finally." He rolled on to his back and held his arms out to her. Smiling, she crawled to him and let herself be pulled into a fierce hug.

"You're poking me," she laughed.

"Sorry, Sis." He let her go and pushed her off him so she ended up between them. "We were sort of almost in the middle of something else. Weren't we, Sebby?"

Sebastian grumbled something, not looking at either of them.

"Oh, don't mind him," Jim giggled. "He's just a little modest. He'll get over it." He turned on his side to face her. "So," he began, "what took you so long?"

"I had a job," she said, a little evasively. "I told you. It just took a little longer than expected."

"Yeah. Almost a month longer. I've missed you." He hugged her again.

Sebastian grunted and sat up, pulling the sheet around his waist. "I'll take a shower," he murmured, and got out of the bed.

"Rude!" Jim called after him as he left the room.

"It's okay," Jemima said, before kissing his cheek. "He barely knows me."

"That's not what I meant." Jim grinned and pressed against her. "He didn't take care of me before leaving."

She punched his chest playfully. "You're terrible," she said. "You want a hand?"

…

After his shower, Sebastian went downstairs and started making tea. As he put on the kettle, he cursed under his breath. He had all but forgotten that hazy memory from years ago. But seeing Jim and Jemima together, hugging and laughing, had brought it all back. He had convinced himself he had been mistaken. Had shrugged off the odd stirring it had raised in him.

But now, seeing Jemima comfortably resting against Jim's naked aroused body, he was not so sure. They seemed awfully… familiar. But no! They were brother and sister. Well, not really. But still?

He should just ask, really. 'Hey Jim. Are you shagging your sister?' That would go down well if he was mistaken. And if he wasn't? What then? It wasn't exactly as if he and Jim were exclusive. Sebastian liked girls. A lot. And Jim liked... Well, Jim liked anybody. And did anybody. Sebastian smiled.

But this was different. If 'this' was anything. He couldn't quite explain why. He didn't exactly feel jealous, but there was something very unsettling about the thought of those two together. Maybe because he had had such a big crush on Jemima back in school, and then he and Jim had gotten together and... Hell, he didn't know what was going on or why it made him feel so strange. He would just have to wait and see. If there really was something going on between those two, he'd find out soon enough.

…

Jemima chuckled as she let herself roll over on her back, panting slightly. "Sometimes it feels like you're trying to suck my brain out through my mouth." She held her sticky hand up, examining it lazily.

"Maybe I am." Jim sat up and looked down at her. "I bet it would taste delicious." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. Then he took her hand and began licking it clean.

"Jim..." she huffed. "That's disgusting." She giggled. "And it tickles." Jim didn't react but sucked her fingers into his mouth one by one. "It's Sebastian, isn't it?" she asked. "He's been teaching you all kinds of kinky tricks."

He opened one eye and glanced at her as he sucked particularly hard on her index finger. Then he licked her palm and turned to her. "Not exactly teaching," he said as he lay down, his chin resting on her chest as he smiled at her. "It's more like I feel a need to constantly surprise him, to take things just a little bit further. And considering where we've already been it's getting increasingly harder."

She smiled and stroked his hair. "You really are quite a pair. I'm not sure I even want to know what kind of things you get up to."

He grinned at her. "No?"

The impish look in his eyes made her laugh. "Okay, maybe a little. But not now. Now I want to know: did you do it?"

He smiled teasingly. "Do what?"

"Prat!" She poked his side, making him squirm. "You know what. Don't make me tickle you."

"Okay, alright, fine." He giggled. "Yes, I did. Two days earlier than expected, I reached my first million." He beamed at her.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "You're such a gorgeous little genius."

He practically purred as he leaned into her hand. They lay for a while, enjoying the other's presence. Then Jim asked: "So how about it?"

She frowned. His mind did tend to skip sometimes and she had no idea about what he was talking about.

"You," he said, "shagging Sebastian."

She laughed. "Still on about that?"

He sat up and looked down at her, intently. "I know you've wanted to since that time he brought me home. And he's had the hots for you even longer. Why shouldn't you shag each other?"

"Oh, I don't know. Because he's my brother's boyfriend? It's just not right to shag your brother's boyfriend."

He snorted. "It's not right to shag your brother. That never held you back."

She frowned at him. "That's different. You're not my real brother. I'm not your real sister. But I do love you, and Sebastian is your boyfriend. I don't want to come between you."

Jim leaned down and kissed her. "You could never come between us Sis. Besides, he shags all the girls who'll drop and spread for him; I'm already shagging you... It makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, when you both clearly want it."

Jemima considered it for a moment. "When you put it like that, I suppose it does. So what should I do? Just go down there and jump him?"

He looked at her for a moment, then, a little hesitantly, said: "I want to watch."

"Oh..."

He watched her, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Is that okay?"

Finally she nodded. "Yes," she said. "It's not just any shag. I can understand why you want to be there."

His relieved smile was so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. "You could join us," she said. "I've handled two before."

"We've never shared," Jim said pensively. "Maybe we could. But not the first time. That should be just him and you. Get it out of the way, so to speak."

"How romantic."

…

Sebastian tensed as he heard the steps coming down the stairs. He looked up. As he had expected, they both had an arm around the other's waist and Jim was leaning his head on Jemima's shoulder. He sighed. He wasn't imagining it. Those two were a lot closer than a brother and sister should be. But then again, they weren't, were they?

Sebastian shook his head, trying to clear it.

"You two want tea?" he asked.

Jim smiled up at Jemima. "I'm going out to get cigarettes," he said. "But I'm sure Sis would love one." He kissed her cheek and then went to get his coat.

Jemima came over and sat at the kitchen table. "Finally alone," she said. "I don't think that's ever happened before."

To his own embarrassment, all Sebastian could do was grunt in assent. He poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of her. "Milk?" he asked, rather lamely. "Sugar?"

She smiled at him. "Milk would be lovely, thanks."

He went and got the milk, and then sat down across from her, focusing on his own cup to avoid looking at her. He could feel her watching him and it was making him very uncomfortable.

"It's a nice place you got here," she said, her tone only a little ironic. "You two have made quite a life for yourselves. I'm impressed."

Sebastian grunted again, but then pulled himself together. "It's okay," he said. "I didn't plan on making burgers as a career, but it pays the bills. And Jim is pretty useless when it comes to holding down a job." Her smile and nod encouraged him. "But he's great at handling things here. I don't know how he makes ends meet, except..." he hesitated. Did she know what kind of things Jim got up to? The stealing. The... other stuff. Sebastian wasn't even sure what Jim meant when he said he did 'favours' for people.

Jemima chuckled. "Yes, I know about the 'except'. He's always been like that. Sticking his nose and fingers where they didn't belong. But he always gets out safe, so we never ask. Right?"

He nodded, grinning a little.

"He always gets away with anything, doesn't he?" she continued, her tone changed subtly.

Sebastian frowned at her. "I suppose..."

"Like he got away with you."

Sebastian nearly spit out his tea. "Excuse me?" he sputtered.

"Yes, I had my eye on you back in the days. But he beat me to it. The little shit." Somehow she made last words sound like a term of endearment. She caught his eyes and he found he couldn't look away. She smiled and leaned forward a little. "I can't believe I let him get to you first."

Sebastian felt like a deer caught in headlights. Literally. Her eyes held his captive. They were exactly like Jim's. It didn't make any sense. She was not his sister. He was not her brother. So how did they have the exact same eyes? The shape. The colour. The smouldering fire always lurking under the surface ready to turn into a roaring inferno.

He hadn't noticed that she had gotten up and moved around the table. Suddenly, she was right in front of him, looking down with a slightly predatory smile as he sat, trapped between her and the table. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Then she straightened up.

"Is it okay if I take a shower?" she asked, casually.

He seemed to have lost the ability to speak, so he nodded, unable to take his eyes of her lips, as they smiled smugly. She went and picked up her bag and headed for the stairs. Just before she disappeared out of sight, she looked back at him and winked.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her."

Sebastian jumped. "Jesus Christ, Jim. When did you get in?"

Jim giggled. "While she was doing her hypnosis bit on you. She's good, right?"

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. "Uhm... Yes?"

Jim walked to him and gave him a brief hug. "Come on. I'll go with you. She doesn't bite...Well, yeah, she does, but she's really good at it."

Sebastian chuckled weakly as Jim grabbed his wrist and hauled him towards the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Jemima wrapped a towel around herself and headed for the boys' bedroom. As she had expected, they were waiting for her. Jim was sitting on the floor, below the window, leaning back against the wall. Sebastian was standing by the bed, looking more than a little nervous.

She flashed Jim a brief smile and then approached Sebastian. "You do want this, right?" she asked, just a little teasingly. He nodded, his eyes flashing over her body. She chuckled. "You've waited long enough," she said, as she loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor.

Sebastian's jaw dropped and then he reached out and placed his hands lightly on her hips. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. At first he was hesitant, but soon he was matching her passion, and she began to understand how he had been able to keep a hold on Jim for two years. His tongue was positively wicked.

She reached down and pulled his t-shirt loose from his jeans, and as she broke the kiss, he obligingly raised his arms so she could pull it off him.

She resumed kissing him as she got his jeans unbuttoned. After pulling them down to his thighs, along with his pants, she pushed him down on the bed. As she leaned down to pull them all the way off, she gave his cock an appreciative glance.

She couldn't resist, and once she had him naked, she descended on him and took him in her mouth. He gasped and she sensed a hand moving to grab her hair, before he stopped it and instead placed it on his stomach. She pushed away any speculation as to what this reflex might indicate and instead focused on getting him right to the edge.

It didn't take long and she pulled back with a grin. "Not yet, loverboy," she said teasingly. She glanced over at Jim and with a grin, he tossed her a condom. Quickly, she removed it from the foil and rolled it onto Sebastian's cock before straddling him. He was quite a bit wider than she was used to and she groaned softly as she sank down over him.

She paused a moment and he waited. Then, as she began moving, he instantly adapted to her rhythm, rolling his hips to go deeper. She leaned down to kiss him, and then closed her eyes. Jim was right. She had wanted to shag Sebastian for years, and it was as good as she had imagined.

Then suddenly, he grabbed her hips and rolled them over so he was on top. Her eyes opened in surprise and he grinned at her. Then he began thrusting fast and hard. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jim's voice was very close. She turned her head and found that he had moved so he was kneeling by the bed, right next to her. She giggled breathlessly and nodded.

Jim rested his head on the mattress and watched her intently. Then suddenly Sebastian reached out, grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to kiss him. Jim moaned into the kiss and Jemima smiled. "You two... look so precious... together." She gasped in between Sebastian's thrusts which were coming hard and steady.

Then suddenly Jim tore loose from Sebastian and leaned down to kiss her instead. Sebastian groaned and with a few hard thrusts she felt him come inside her. He pulled away, panting.

"I knew it," he gasped, half admiringly, half accusingly. "You two are shagging."

Jim looked over at him and grinned. "Well, yeah." He turned his focus back on Jemima, kissing her fiercely.

"How long?" Sebastian asked, moving closer to watch them.

Jemima pushed Jim back to answer. "Well, the first time was when Jim was..."

But Jim interrupted her. "When she visited last month. While you were in Guildford."

She frowned but didn't comment.

Then Jim chuckled. "Sebastian, you rude boy. Don't you ever finish what you start?"

Sebastian blushed. "I was planning to, but then you two started snogging and it kind of caught me off guard, because that was just about the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Jim smiled. "Then you'd better look away."

…

Sebastian stared as Jim stripped and crawled into the bed. He could not believe this. Not only had he gotten to shag Jemima Moriarty – finally - but within minutes of coming, he was treated to the unbelievably arousing sight of the two of them going down on each other. It was no wonder he was already beginning to grow hard again. Just the sounds they were making would have been enough.

It all made sense now. What he had seen that day in school, how it had made him feel. He had somehow developed a double crush. Having them both was about as good as it could possibly get.

He began stroking himself slowly as he watched. They were really going at it and from the sounds of it, Jemima was close to an orgasm. Jim seemed to think so too, because he moved his hand up to push two fingers into her, and within seconds she was writhing and moaning, yet somehow managing to keep her mouth on Jim.

When she relaxed Jim pulled back and gasped for breath. He caught Sebastian's eyes and held them as his breathing grew more rapid and deep. Jemima dug her fingertips into Jim's hips and with a small cry he closed his eyes and bucked his hips hard. Jemima held on and Sebastian's eyes bulged at the sight of her throat working to swallow as Jim came hard.

As she rolled away, a dazed smug smile on her face, he too was overcome and spilled over his own hand.

Two hands reached for him and suddenly he found himself pulled down into the narrow space between the two Moriarties, Jim's arm and Jemima's thigh flung across him with equal possessiveness.

"Thanks, brother," Jemima murmured sleepily.

"Any time, Sis," Jim replied, nuzzling into Sebastian's shoulder.

Sebastian just let out a happy sigh as all three of them drifted off to sleep.

…

"Now don't you be getting any ideas, Jim," Jemima warned as Jim was practically bouncing on the sofa in excitement. Sebastian, who was sitting on the other side of him, chuckled.

"I can't believe you haven't seen this before," he said. "It's almost four years old."

"I thought it was about animals," Jim said, squirming happily. "Does he really skin them? Do we get to see it?"

"Ewh, Jim," Jemima said, though she herself was on the edge of her seat. "That's gross."

"Well, do we?"

"I'm not telling you," Sebastian said smugly. "You'll have to see for yourselves."

"Then you're making more popcorn," Jim said, thrusting the empty bowl at Sebastian. "Now."

He chuckled as he got up and went to the kitchen.

Jim snuggled closer to Jemima and she put an arm around his shoulder. "I really like the other one better," she said. "He's got so much style. And he's really smart."

"Yes," Jim agreed. "Smart is good. It doesn't matter if you're a psychopathic killer as long as you're being really clever about it."

She snorted. "That's not what I meant, you twat. I'm just saying that for the purpose of the film, the intelligent maniac is more interesting. And attractive."

"Intelligent is attractive," Jim said, preening a little. Then he whooped and almost jumped off the sofa. "Did you see that? Did you see it? He took his face!"

Jemima laughed as she quickly saved the coke Jim had almost knocked off the coffee table.

"Yes, I saw," she said. "And I say it again: don't go getting any ideas."

Sebastian returned with the popcorn. "Now sit still, Jim," he warned. "These are really hot."

Jim chuckled. "I'll try." Just to be sure, Jemima wrapped her arms securely around him, with the result that they both nearly missed the ending, being rather preoccupied with snogging. Suddenly she felt Jim chuckle against her lips.

"What is it?" she muttered.

"He's staring again, isn't he?"

She tilted her head so she could look over Jim's shoulder without taking her lips off his. "Yes. And it looks like he's considering having a wank."

Jim giggled. "Then let's give him something worth wanking to." He crawled into her lap, straddling her and resumed the snogging with renewed vigour.

…

Jemima had never slept so well as when she was sandwiched between the two boys. With other lovers she had never been able to bear them touching her in any way when she was trying to sleep. But with Jim and Sebastian, she was quite happy to doze off in a messy tangle of limbs. To be honest, she wasn't sure which of them currently had a hand squeezed between her legs and which was cupping her breast. It didn't matter. It was just very very comfortable.

She had been with them for almost a week now and she was seriously considering giving up her own place and moving in with the boys. It was a perfect arrangement. Sebastian was fun and a good exercise partner. They had been going for runs every day and had even taken a couple of trips to the local gym. She had started teaching him a little hand to hand combat and he seemed to have talent for it.

During the day when he was at work, she'd cuddle with Jim and they'd talk and tease and snog for hours on end. When she needed a nap, he'd tuck her in and then go work on his computers, but as soon as she was awake he'd give her his undivided attention.

But the best times were when all three of them got together at the end of the day, in the bed, on the sofa, in the shower and one, quite memorable time, under the dining table. Jemima could not remember ever being this content.

Jim was muttering in his sleep again, and she turned to him and, as always when he had a disturbing dream, she pressed a kiss to his lips. He squirmed a little, then sighed and went back to peaceful sleep. She smiled and stroked his cheek gently. Then suddenly she felt her stomach lurch. She sat up. She hadn't been sick since she was a little girl, but she knew the feeling.

She scrambled over Sebastian and got to the bathroom just in time. When her stomach was empty, she sat on the floor, slumped against the wall, determined not to acknowledge the thought nagging at the back of her mind.


	14. Chapter 14

Later that day Jemima got the call for her next job. It was a good one. A young rising star in the British government was getting a little too comfortable in his position. So she had to take out one of his so-called assistants. The man was supposedly a trained bodyguard, but posing as a secretary/driver. It was low profile enough to be easy and probably quick, but still with enough challenge to keep it interesting.  
It had to happen that evening, when the guy was on a job up north, so she needed a car. And preferably a driver, because she hadn't driven on British roads for almost two years and she still got a little confused about driving on the 'wrong' side of the road.  
Jim had locked himself in his 'office' all day, so when Sebastian came home, she asked him if he'd be willing to drive her there and back. It took very little persuasion.  
…  
Sebastian was really enjoying this. It wasn't often he got to take the car anywhere except the short trip between work and home. And it was a pretty good car, an '83 T-bird, that Jim had supposedly gotten a good deal on after doing someone a 'favour'. It was cherry red and very well kept, and Sebastian loved that car.  
Once they hit the motorway, he took the opportunity to let it run full out. He had never had occasion to see how fast it could really go. As it hit 110 mph, Jemima started laughing. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “Jim would shit himself if he was here.”  
Sebastian chuckled. “Probably.”  
They drove in silence for a while. Then Sebastian slowed down as they neared their exit. “What a kick,” he gasped, laughing.  
Jemima nodded. “We definitely have to do that again some time.” Then she pointed to a small inn up ahead. “That's where he'll be. Park round the back.”  
Sebastian nodded and steered the car through the parking lot and round back to the service entrance. The kitchens were closed for the night and everything was dark except for a single streetlamp. Jemima checked her watch.  
“We have thirty minutes. I guess we got here sooner than I had expected.” She winked at him.  
Sebastian grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that.”  
She turned in her seat so she was facing him. “Guess you'll just have to make it up to me.”  
She leaned over and kissed him. He returned the kiss eagerly and then pulled her into his lap. The adrenalin of the wild ride was still coursing through them both, and soon clothes started vanishing, dropping to the floor or flying into the backseat. As she straddled him, he stopped her, his hands on her hips.  
“Condom,” he muttered. “You know Jim insists...”  
She huffed. “Well I didn't bring any. Did you?”  
He shook his head, groaning with frustration.  
She smiled. “You shag Jim without one, he shags me. Why should we bother?”  
He wanted to say that it was important to Jim, but he didn't really know why. Instead he muttered: “Pregnancy?”  
She laughed. “Oh honey, you don't have to worry about that.”  
She cut off any further protests by thrusting her tongue into his mouth and then eased down on him. Sebastian moaned. He hadn't been with a girl without a condom since before Jim, and even then only a few times. He had completely forgotten how good it felt. He dug his fingers into her hips and began thrusting up as best as he could in the somewhat awkward position.  
When she released his lips, she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Don't come in me. It makes such a mess.”  
He almost snorted. “So does coming outside of you...”  
“Fair point,” she gasped moving against the thrusts and clenching around him. “Get me to come first, and I'll finish you with my mouth.”  
“Oh god...” He closed his eyes. “Then you’d better be close, because I can't last long like this.”  
She kissed him again and he felt her reaching down between her legs. He almost came right then, but managed to hold back as she worked herself to orgasm. Then she moved over to her own seat and bent down to take him in her mouth. He only lasted a few seconds.  
…  
As they sat panting and laughing Jemima located her jeans on the floor and got out a pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?” she asked.  
Sebastian frowned. “Jim doesn't like it,” he said, almost apologetically.  
“There's a lot of things Jim does not like,” she said. “Open the window.”  
He obeyed and she lit her cigarette. Then she offered him the pack. With a shrug he accepted it and lit one for himself. They smoked in silence, and then Jemima checked her watch again.  
“It's time,” she said. “Just wait here.”  
With a bit of shuffling she got her clothes back on and then got her bag out of the backseat. She gave Sebastian a quick kiss, got out of the car and disappeared around the building. Slowly Sebastian got dressed and then leaned back, closing his eyes. This was fucked up beyond anything he had ever done before. Well, except back when he and Jim had taken care of his father perhaps.  
And then there was the whole sex-thing. Since Jemima had moved in, they had been going at it, all three of them, any chance they got. It wasn't like he and Jim had been exactly passive, but this was a whole new level. And now he had fucked Jemima without Jim being there. And without a condom. And he couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a stupid thing to do. That Jim would be upset about it.  
…  
Jemima picked her spot and assembled her rifle. Then she settled in to wait. This was the only part of the job she ever found difficult: the waiting. She was a very energetic soul. Some would even call her restless, and usually it was an advantage. But not for things like this, where patience and caution were essential.  
She sighed and tried to get a tune going in her head. Sometimes it helped. Instead she began thinking about the past week, living with the boys. It was definitely not something she had planned. She had meant to stay for a day or two. But things had just clicked between them. She found that for the first time in her life she could be completely at ease with someone other than Jim.  
Sebastian was a great guy. He was funny and good-looking. And the sex was amazing. The combinations seemed limitless and especially Jim was brilliant at coming up with new ideas. She smiled to herself but was then jerked out of her musings by the arrival of her target. He was not alone. His employer was with him, which was not part of the plan. She frowned and considered her options.  
She could call it off, but that would not look good on her record. She could attempt the shot anyway, but the risk was too great. She really had no other choice but to wait and hope for better circumstances.  
The two men talked for a long time in the parking lot in front of the inn, and Jemima was about to give up when the young government official nodded once and then went into the inn, leaving his 'assistant' outside.  
The man got out a pack of cigarettes and as he was lighting one, Jemima took aim.  
…  
Three minutes later, she woke Sebastian with one quick tap on the window before moving round to the other side of the car and getting in. “Right,” she said. “Let's get out of here.”  
Sebastian blinked sleepily a few times and then reached for the ignition. As he pulled out onto the road, they heard shouts behind them. Jemima laughed and soon Sebastian joined her.  
It was late and the country roads were empty. Soon Sebastian had the car up to full speed, making it skid slightly at every turn. As they roared onto the motorway Jemima closed her eyes and sighed. “You are so definitely hired as my driver whenever I’ve got a job,” she mused. “I'm never getting behind a wheel again.”  
Sebastian grinned. “Deal,” he said and chanced a quick glance at her before focusing on the road. “This is beyond comparison the most enjoyable job I've ever done.”  
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And I haven't even paid you yet,” she teased.  
…  
Mrs. Anderson looked out her window again. That boy had been sitting outside that dilapidated house for hours now. He had come out just around the time she had called the kids in for dinner, and now it was past midnight. She was getting quite concerned. She knew he lived alone with his elder brother and Mrs. O'Shane had told her that he claimed to be eighteen years old. But he did not look it. More like fourteen, fifteen at the most. Except perhaps when he had not shaved. Like tonight.  
But he still looked so heartbreakingly young as he sat there on the curb, bathed in the stark yellow light of the street lamp. What was he doing out there? Then she remembered seeing a young girl coming and going too. She had assumed she was a sister, because she looked somewhat similar to the younger brother. What was his name? Thomas? James? Mrs. Anderson shook her head, laughing at herself. She had always been complete rubbish with names.  
But now, come to think of it, maybe the girl wasn't a sister. Maybe she was the girlfriend of the older brother. She frowned at the thought that those two might be together inside the house and that they had ousted the younger boy to have some privacy. Or even worse, that they were being so noisy that he had come out there to escape the sounds.  
That poor boy. Did he really not have anywhere to go? And how could those other two, who were practically grown-ups, act so irresponsibly? Mrs. Anderson was not a prude. She had no objections to young people in love being intimate with each other. But not at the expense of others. The boy was probably an orphan, since he was living with his older brother. And she had never seen him with any friends. It really wasn't fair that he should be treated in such a manner.  
She was considering approaching him to offer that he could come into her house. Give him a cup of tea, and perhaps let him spend the night on their sofa. He really shouldn't be out there at this hour. And he was not properly dressed for it at all. In fact, those might be pyjama pants he was wearing. She couldn't be quite sure at this distance.  
She had her hand on the doorknob when she heard an engine approaching. She went to the window. The boy had gotten to his feet and was looking down the street. Then he turned around and darted back into the house. A moment later, a flashy red car pulled up in front of the house. After a moment the older brother and his girlfriend got out. She was carrying a bag. He went round the car and put his arms around her, they kissed, rather giggly it would seem, and walked towards the house.  
Mrs. Anderson shook her head as she turned away and headed for the stairs. 'That poor boy', she thought.


	15. Chapter 15

Jemima and Sebastian stumbled giggling through the front door, an arm around each other.  
”Jim?” Jemima called out, but Sebastian shushed her.  
”Do you have any idea what time it is?” he whispered. ”He's probably asleep.”  
”You're right.” She giggled. ”It's way past his bedtime.”  
He pinched her. ”You're horrible, you know?”  
She nodded and then pulled him down to kiss him.  
There was a small sound by the stairs and immediately Sebastian pulled away. Slowly, he walked over and looked up. Jemima joined him and sensed his body growing rigid and tense. A small figure was sitting in the shadows on the top step.  
”Jim?” she said. ”Why are you still up?”  
Jim stood up, but his face was still in darkness. His voice was very soft, but oddly cold as he spoke. ”You've been out.”  
”Yes,” she nodded. ”I had a job. Sebastian drove me.”  
”A job?” Jim didn't move. ”How nice.”  
”Yes,” Jemima smiled. ”It was quite easy. Went off without a hitch. Except that I had to wait a little longer than anticipated. That's why we're so late.”  
”Yes. You are rather late. But I'm glad things went well.” He turned his head slightly towards Sebastian. ”And how about you? Did things go off without a hitch?”  
Sebastian made a small whimpering sound. ”Yes, Jim,” he said, his voice shaking. ”Yes, they did.”  
”How nice for you.”  
She still couldn’t see his face, but she sensed that he was studying Sebastian intently. He had begun trembling next to her, and she reached out for his hand. The moment her fingers touched his, he yelped and took a step away from her.  
Jim giggled and now Jemima grew tense too. It sounded different from what she had gotten used to. It sounded childish. Like when he... She stopped that train of thought immediately.  
”I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Sebastian,” Jim said, and Sebastian whimpered again. ”But I really wish you had told me before you left. I have been… worried.”  
Sebastian whimpered again.  
”But never mind that now,” Jim said. ”You're both home. Safe and sound. I'm glad.”  
”Yes...” Sebastian stammered. ”Safe and… sound.”  
Jim giggled again and Jemima could feel the hairs on her arms stand on end.  
For a long moment no one spoke or moved. Then Jemima pulled up her bag which had slipped a little down her arm. ”Well,” she said, trying to sound casual. ”It's been a long day. Why don't we...”  
But she was interrupted by Jim.  
”No!!!” he shouted. ”We will not do anything. You will not do anything.” Then his voice turned calm and silky. ”Sebastian. I think you and I need to have a little talk.” He held out his hand towards them.  
Sebastian was shaking all over as he took a hesitating step towards the stairs.  
”Good boy,” Jim purred. ”Come on.”  
Jemima wanted to reach out. To stop Sebastian. But something told her it would only make things worse. So she just stood there and watched Sebastian slowly walk up the stairs, take Jim's hand and be led down the hall.  
…  
She stayed downstairs for nearly an hour. Apart from a door closing, and something that might have been a key turning, she didn't hear anything. She hoped it meant that the boys were in fact just talking, but she had her doubts. Jim had been in a strange mood. One she hadn't experienced for many years. And from the way Sebastian had reacted, it was clear that he too had seen Jim like this before.  
Her time in this house had been all fun and sex. She had thought that Jim's mood swings were a thing of the past. Something left behind along with his childhood. Now she was not so sure anymore. Had she known, she would not have asked Sebastian to drive. She would not have… She almost gasped. Sebastian had said that Jim insisted on them using a condom, but she had waved his protests aside. What had she done?  
She heard a door open upstairs, and steps down the corridor. Then she heard another door open and close and the unmistakable sound of the numerous locks on Jim's 'office'.  
She jumped to her feet and rushed up the stairs. She looked in the bedroom first, but it was dark and empty. Then she ran to the bathroom.  
Sebastian was standing by the sink. He was naked from the waist up and had a wet, bloodstained washcloth pressed to his right shoulder. He had been looking in the mirror, but as she entered, he lowered his eyes. A small sob escaped him.  
She hurried to his side and placed her hand gently over his, holding the cloth.  
”Are you okay?” she asked. Her mind formed the question: 'What did he do?'. Instead she said: ”What happened?” Then she noticed the knife in the sink, its blade stained with blood.  
Sebastian neither spoke nor looked at her, so gently, she took his hand and pulled it away from his shoulder. The cuts were very deep, forming the letter M.  
”He marked me...” Sebastian muttered, and then broke down, sobbing. He sank to the floor and she followed him, supporting him. Then she pulled him in, to rest his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair soothingly.  
”You poor boy,” she muttered as he cried against her.  
…  
Sebastian had insisted on her sleeping in the guest room and had wanted to put on clean bedding. But she had assured him she could do it herself, and after bandaging his cuts she had put him to bed. But instead of making the bed in the guest room, she had settled on the floor outside the bedroom. Thanks to her training she was used to sleeping with one eye open and on hard surfaces.  
She was the one who had messed up, and she was going to make sure that Jim did not hurt Sebastian again. Not because of her.  
But still, she must have been less vigilant than she thought, or Jim more stealthy than she thought possible. Because the next thing she knew was waking up to the smell of coffee and the sound of happy humming coming from downstairs.  
The first thing she did was check on Sebastian. He was still sound asleep, snoring gently. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she went downstairs.  
Jim was placing bacon in the frying pan as she walked into the kitchen. ”Good morning, Sis,” he said and beamed at her. ”Did you sleep well?”  
The mood had passed. The crisis was over. She returned his smile as she walked to him and kissed his cheek. ”Like a rock,” she said.  
He finished with the bacon and then turned his attention fully on her, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.  
She giggled against his lips. ”That's quite a goodmorning,” she muttered.  
He pulled back. ”Oh,” he said, laughing. ”I haven't slept yet. I've been working all night. And you know what that does to me, don't you?”  
She laughed and reached past him to turn down the heat so the bacon wouldn't burn. ”On the table?” she asked. ”Like old times?”  
”Indeed.” He pushed her backwards until her hips hit the edge of the dining table. Then he spun her around and pushed her down. She waited for him to pull off her jeans and panties and then spread her legs, already slightly breathless with anticipation. She didn't have to wait long. The sound of his zipper gave her only a few seconds warning, before he pushed into her, hard and fast.  
She gasped an arched her back. She felt a little guilty, considering the price Sebastian had paid, but she couldn't help feeling more than a little smug that she had been first to Jim this morning. He really was an amazing shag after one of his moods. More rough and forceful. And she loved that.  
Soon, she was moaning and writhing as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her back into every thrust. Then she heard a sound by the door. She looked up and saw Sebastian watching. She could see in his eyes that he too knew that the danger was over. So he had been through this before. Right then Jim changed the angle of his thrusts and she came hard, without warning.  
Jim stopped moving and she felt one of his hands leave her hip. Then she realised that he was reaching out to Sebastian. He stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Jim must have given him a signal because he stepped to the table, right across from her, pulled down his pyjama pants and bent over. Their faces were only inches apart and she smiled at him as she felt Jim pull out.  
”Stay there, Sis,” he said as he went around the table and took position behind Sebastian. He leaned down and muttered in his ear. ”You should really thank Jemima right now.”  
”Why?” Sebastian asked. Jemima could see him tense a little. Was it perhaps not over after all? What was Jim up to?  
”Because,” Jim purred. ”If she hadn't been so incredibly wet, this might have hurt a lot more.” Then he pushed into Sebastian, as hard and fast as he had done with her. Sebastian gasped and his eyes grew wide with surprise and pain. Jemima reached out and took his hand, and he squeezed it hard.  
Jim chuckled softly as he held still, letting Sebastian adjust. Then he began moving, slowly at first, but soon thrusting just as fast and even harder than he had with Jemima. Sebastian kept holding onto Jemima's hands and looked her straight in the eyes. She watched in fascination as the pain turned to pleasure and then almost desperate ecstasy. Jim clearly knew exactly what he was doing and soon Sebastian was groaning and pushing back against him. Then he closed his eyes and cried out as he came. Jemima watched in fascination. She had never seen a man come without his cock being touched.  
Then she realised Jim was watching her. She looked up, and for a moment she saw danger in his eyes. She knew what he was telling her and she nodded in acceptance. Sebastian was his and she would not touch him again, except with his permission.  
Sebastian was still moaning and gasping when Jim pulled out and gave his arse an affectionate slap. ”I'll go wank in the shower,” he said, calmly. ”Why don't you two clean up here and finish breakfast.” Then he pulled up his jeans and bounded out of the kitchen.  
They didn't speak as they worked, but exchanged many a meaningful glance. They had messed up, but things were alright now. It was as if it had never happened. Except of course for the slightly bloody bandage on Sebastian's shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

Jemima was once again commended on a job well done, and was immediately given a new task. This one was in London, but it would still be more convenient to drive. She broached the subject with Jim and he suggested that they all go together.  
So here they were, Sebastian behind the wheel and Jim and her snogging in the back seat. She could still smell the gunpowder on her skin and clothes. And on Jim. He had insisted on going with her rather than staying in the car. She had been hesitant, fearing that he would be a liability, giving them away or distracting her. But he had been so quiet and discrete that she had almost forgotten that he was there until the target came into line of sight. Then suddenly he was right beside her, his cheek almost pressed against hers.  
It should have startled her. It should have been annoying. But to her surprise, she found that it actually improved her focus. Calmed her down. They were breathing in perfect synchrony as she took aim and gently squeezed the trigger.  
Afterwards he had helped her pack the rifle away and then they had hurried back to the car hand in hand. They had tumbled into the back seat and Sebastian had taken off. The adrenalin had quickly gotten away with them and now they were going at it like a couple of American teenagers at the local make-out point. Soon Jim had his hands under her shirt and when he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, a moan escaped her.  
”Do you two mind?” Sebastian asked, laughing. ”I'm trying to focus on driving.”  
”Then focus,” Jim answered, getting a mischievous look in his eyes.  
Jemima laughed. ”You're not going to make it easy for him, are you?”  
”Not at all,” Jim answered, giggling.  
After some frantic manoeuvring they got enough clothes out of the way and Jim flipped her over, so she was kneeling on the seat. ”Eyes on the road,” Jim said as he got behind her and pushed in. It was cramped and awkward, and Jim couldn't really move properly, but knowing that not only was Sebastian listening and fighting hard not to watch them in the mirror, but also that anyone they passed could look in and see what they were up to, provided enough of a kick to make up for it.  
Jim leaned against her and reached around so he could work her with his fingers. It didn't take long and she came with a loud cry, intentionally not holding back, just to tease Sebastian. Then Jim pulled out and sat down, panting. She shifted around so she could pull her pants and jeans up and then sat down too. She glanced down at Jim's glistening cock.  
”You didn't finish?” she asked him.  
He shook his head and giggled. ”Didn't...” he panted, ”want to... make a mess.”  
She laughed and leaned over to kiss him. Then the car stopped. Without a word Sebastian got out. He moved the seat out of the way and then reached in, grabbed Jim by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him out of the car with one fast jerk. Jim screamed in surprise, desperately trying to tuck himself back in.  
But the moment he was out, Sebastian batted his hands away. ”You can forget that,” he said. ”You were the one who wanted to put on a show. So let them all see.” He spun Jim around once and then hauled him off towards the front door.  
For a moment Jemima just sat there, staring. The she got out of the car and ran after them.  
…  
Sebastian heard Jemima close the door behind them, but he sensed very little else but his own arousal and Jim, squirming and struggling against the firm grip he had on his hair. For a moment their eyes met and Sebastian saw that Jim knew exactly what he was in for and that he wanted it. Only very rarely had Jim not given permission and in those cases Sebastian had been able to stop instantly.  
As soon as Sebastian knew that it was okay, he let go of his last remnant of control. He dragged a kicking and sobbing Jim through to the sitting room and hurled him across the room, not even cringing when Jim hit one of the armchairs, stumbled and fell to the floor hard. He was about to advance on him, when he felt something hold him back. Literally. He looked down and saw a hand on his arm.  
He spun around and stared straight into the mouth of Jemima's handgun. He froze. Then he heard Jim's voice behind him.  
“Stay...” he panted weakly, “out of this... Sis...”  
Jemima hesitated, then slowly lowered the gun. “What...?” she stammered. “What is this?”  
Sebastian had to fight hard to gain enough control to speak. “This is how we play...” he managed. “Rough,” he added after a moment.  
He could see the comprehension dawning in her eyes, but she still looked wary and the gun was still in her hand.  
Then Jim spoke again. “You can stay and watch if you like,” he said, his voice calm and indifferent. “But don't you dare interfere.”  
Jemima nodded, put the gun away and took a step back.  
Sebastian shook his head once and turned around. It only took one look at Jim's tear streaked face and round frightened eyes to get him back in character. He advanced on him, dragged him to his feet and then sent him tumbling down on the sofa with one hard backhanded slap.  
…  
Jemima tried to watch. When she saw that Jim's lip was bleeding, she wanted to run to him, but held herself back. When Sebastian tore his jeans off him and flipped him onto his stomach on the sofa, she closed her eyes. Then Jim screamed in pain and she turned and ran.  
For two hours she lay on the bed, a pillow over her head, trying to block out all sounds and thoughts. She jumped and almost screamed in shock when she felt a hand on her back. She tossed the pillow aside and rolled away, ready for… she didn't know what.  
Jim was sitting on the bed. The blood on his lip and chin had dried. His eyes were red from crying and there was a large bruise on one of his cheekbones. He was still wearing his t-shirt, but there was a large rip from the neck and across the shoulder. Other than that he was naked. Her eyes scanned him quickly and she noticed several bruises as well as a small trickle of drying blood down his thigh.  
With a sound almost like a sob, she sat and pulled him into her arms. “What did he do to you, baby brother?” she muttered, kissing his hair. “What did he do to you, darling?”  
Jim giggled weakly. “He shagged my brains out, tossed me around a bit and then fucked my throat,” he said, his voice thin and raspy. “And before you go getting any ideas, I loved every second of it.”  
She frowned. “But why Jim?” She held him out so she could look in his eyes. “I mean, you're bleeding. He really hurt you.”  
He shrugged. “I like the pain. I need it.”  
She shook her head. “Need it? How can you need that kind of… abuse? And how can Sebastian do that to you?”  
Jim lay down and pulled her along, so they were both on their sides, their noses almost touching. “He didn't want to at first,” he admitted. “But I kept baiting him. The first time he slapped me, he nearly ruined the whole thing by crying and apologising, begging me to hit him back or kick him out. But I finally got him to understand that I wanted it, and we've been building it up slowly since then. He gives as much as he can, and though I know I could take more, it's still enough.”  
She still didn't understand. “Enough for what?” she said.  
“Enough to get me off,” he said and kissed her. “To make me come so hard I pass out from it.”  
She stared at him. “Really?”  
“Well... not every time. But it's always good. I don't know why, but sometimes pain makes sex better for me. I think I've got some wires crossed or something.”  
She thought about this for a long while then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I know, that for some people the two things are connected. It doesn't make you a freak or anything. It was just… so rough...”  
He grinned. “I know. Isn't he amazing?”  
Jemima bit her lip but forced herself to nod. “Where is he now?” she asked.  
“He's taking a shower and then he'll take off for a day or two. He says he'll beat me if I really want him to, but he can't stand looking at the cuts and bruises when they're still fresh. He really is a big softy.”  
She couldn't help laughing, especially not considering the fond and tender look in Jim's eyes when he talked about Sebastian. “So...” she said hesitantly. “It's just you and me?”  
He nodded. “If you can stand to look at me while I heal,” he said.  
“Of course I can, baby brother,” she said and kissed him softly, trying to avoid the cut on his lip.  
He giggled and pressed his lips hard against hers. “I like the pain,” he muttered. “Remember?”  
…  
Sebastian stood outside the bedroom door and listened. He could not make out any words, just the soft tones of their voices and the playful giggles. A knot was forming in his stomach. He always felt like shit afterwards. Especially when he had gotten this carried away. Jim was usually full of reassurances when he came back, telling Sebastian how well he had done and how much he had loved it. It almost made him feel worse. Especially because he was beginning to like it. A lot.  
And now this. He had always left Jim alone after hurting him. He had pictured him curling up in pain and tears, until he cried himself to sleep. But he was happy. Happy and relaxed, kissing and joking with his sister.  
He heard movement and then the words 'get you cleaned up' and he turned and bolted. His bag was already packed and waiting in the downstairs cupboard. He grabbed it, ran from the house and jumped in his car. This time, he might be gone for more than a couple of days, he thought.


	17. Chapter 17

”What'll it be today Ma'am?” the young woman behind the counter asked, smiling brightly. Mrs. Anderson returned her smile, a bit stiffly as she asked for some cough medicine for her oldest boy, who was lying at home, feeling quite miserable. But that was not what worried her. No, it was that boy again. James. The one from next door.  
He was skulking about in the section of the chemist’s, where the adult products where shelved. Was he buying contraceptives? For himself or for that awful brother of his?  
He really was such a darling, she thought. He must be so shy about it. Especially with that pretty young girl behind the counter. For a moment Mrs. Anderson considered approaching him and offering to purchase the product for him, but then he squared his shoulders, took something off the shelf and walked up to stand in line behind her. She quickly paid for the medicine and headed for the door, not wanting to give him a larger audience than necessary.  
Bless the kid, she thought, as she walked away. But she just couldn't resist glancing back as she opened the door. He wasn't buying condoms after all. It appeared to be a pregnancy test.  
…  
Jemima was pacing the sitting room when she finally heard the front door open. She rushed to Jim.  
”It's really not necessary,” she said. ”I'm positively sure, I'm pregnant. I have been for a couple of weeks.”  
”I know you are,” Jim said, shrugging off his jacket. ”This is entirely for my benefit. I have to know for sure.”  
She bit her lip and nodded. None of them had said it directly, but the math wasn't that difficult. If indeed she was pregnant, and as far along as she suspected, it could only really have happened on one occasion: when she had first visited Jim, while Sebastian was away.  
”So...” she hesitated. ”Should we do it now?”  
”I think it works best in the morning, so let's wait,” Jim said, “and besides, there's something I want to do first.”  
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him expectantly.  
”Not yet,” he said. ”After dinner.”   
He went to the kitchen and began taking out pots and ingredients. He had put the small discrete cardboard packet down on the dining table as he passed it, and while he cooked, she settled in the sofa and looked at it, her mind a complete jumble of worry and excitement.  
She was so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed the passage of time before Jim was at her side. “Dinner's ready,” he said. “Will you help me set the table?”  
She nodded and got up. As if by silent agreement, they worked around the test, leaving it in the middle of the table like some absurd tiny centrepiece. Then Jim brought in the food and she realised that he had cooked her favourite vegetarian lasagne. It wasn't that she didn't like meat, there was just something about this particular dish that she absolutely loved.  
After dinner they helped each other with the dishes. They didn't speak much, knowing that the real conversations were yet to come, tomorrow morning when they knew for sure.  
They tried watching telly but neither could really focus. So in the end she turned to him and asked: “So, what was it you wanted to do?”  
He looked at her and took her hand. “Let's go upstairs,” he said, sounding both serious and nervous.  
She pulled him to his feet and led him up the stairs, grabbing the test as she passed the table. She didn't have to ask, but took him to the bedroom. Once inside, she placed the packet on the dresser and turned to him. “So?”  
He took both her hands in his and stepped so close their toes were touching. “There is one thing,” he said, “that we've never done. And tomorrow everything might change, so I want to do it now. While it's just us. Just you and me.”  
She frowned, starting to feel a bit nervous herself. “What is it?” she asked, hesitantly.  
Jim smiled as he leaned forward and kissed her softly. He whispered against her lips: “I want to make love to you.”  
She almost gasped in surprise, not just at the words, but the tone of his voice, but he covered her lips with his and the sound was lost in a deep passionate kiss.  
It was so very different. There was no teasing, no giggling or urgency, as they slowly undressed each other, pausing for kisses and caresses. Then they were on the bed and his hands were so slow and gentle on her skin it almost made her cry. She could not remember ever being touched like that. It almost felt like a kind of worship.  
When he entered her they both gasped, in complete unison and then their lips were locked together again as they moved, slowly and deliberately. It felt like it lasted an eternity, before she felt the heat in her contract and then burst in warm waves. He followed soon after, burying his face in her shoulder, practically sobbing with the intensity of the climax.  
She fell asleep curled up in his arms, an odd stirring in her chest that she could not deal with. Not yet.  
…  
Sebastian had been gone for almost a week when he finally worked up the nerve to return home. He desperately hoped that all bruises and cuts on Jim's face and body were healed by then, and that neither of them would mention it. Having had Jemima as a witness to their 'game' had made it all seem so… scary.  
He had been going at Jim with even more force and violence than usual, and though he knew it was exactly what Jim wanted from him, he just didn't feel comfortable knowing that he was capable of such things. Even though they had talked about it over and over, everytime he took Jim that way, to him it just felt like rape.  
And the worst part, the terrifyingly mind-numbing part of it was, that he was beginning to relish it. That he really really liked it. When Jim was writhing beneath him, sobbing from the pain, he got so aroused, he hardly knew what he was doing. And he hated himself for it. And for wanting to do it again. And again.  
The two Moriarties were settled in front of the telly, snuggled up under a single blanket. They barely glanced around as he entered, before turning their attention back to the old romantic black and white film they were watching. He put his bag by the door and went over to sit in the armchair, not wanting to be the first to speak.  
But time wore on and neither of them spoke or looked at him again. Finally he cracked and, not knowing what else to say, asked: “What's for dinner?”  
Jim just shrugged, but Jemima looked at him. There was something in her eyes that made him feel like those words, for some reason, had been the absolutely most horrible thing to say at that moment.  
He couldn't see why though, and fought down his urge to cringe, just returning her gaze calmly.  
“We thought we might go out,” she said as she returned her attention to the screen. “Neither of us felt like cooking.”  
He nodded, and then sat for a while wondering whether that 'we' included him or not.  
The film ended and Jim got to his feet. He finally looked at Sebastian. “Do you want to change before we go?” he asked.  
It was as if he had uttered a spell to lift some strange enchantment. Jemima smiled and stretched, and Sebastian felt himself relax.  
“No, I'm good,” he said, standing up.  
Ten minutes later they were in his car. This time Jemima sat alone in the back seat as Jim guided Sebastian to a small Italian restaurant he claimed he had been wanting to try for ages. When they got there, Jim and Jemima went inside while Sebastian parked the car around the corner.  
He came in to find them seated at a small table in the corner. They sat facing each other, so that it was up to him which of them he would sit next to. The choice was not difficult and as he settled next to Jim, he tried to take his hand.  
But to his surprise Jim pulled away under the pretence of picking up his menu. Sebastian looked at his own hand, looking kind of forlorn as it lay there on the table. Then he looked up and saw Jemima studying them, with a worried frown.  
Something was not right. Something was very very wrong, and he needed to figure out what it was as quickly as possible before he said or did anything to make it worse. They placed their orders and then waited in silence for the food to arrive. Jemima kept looking out the window, while Jim just kept his head down.  
Sebastian was getting more and more tense from the strangeness of it all and he almost yelped in surprise when Jemima suddenly spoke: “You're never doing that to him again.”  
Sebastian groaned quietly. He had been hoping to avoid this discussion, but Jemima clearly had other plans.  
“Didn't Jim explain it to...” he began, but she cut him off.  
“I don't care what my brother has been telling you. He may claim to want it, but I know what I saw. That was not a 'game'. That was abuse. That was rape.”  
Lost for words, Sebastian looked to Jim. Surely he could make her understand. But Jim just kept staring down at his plate. Sebastian realised he was trembling and lay a hand on Jim's shoulder to calm or comfort him, not understanding what was going on.  
And then the unbelievable thing happened. Jim flinched away as if Sebastian's touch had hurt him. Or like he was afraid of being hit or something. He acted, in fact, exactly like one might expect of a victim being touched by the one who had abused him.  
Sebastian felt sick. He sprang to his feet and for a moment the world seemed to be spinning. Then he located the door and bolted, needing to get away, as far and as fast as possible.


	18. Chapter 18

Sebastian waited in his car across the street until all lights were turned off in the house. He would have preferred to just stay away, but he needed his cards and his passport. An hour after the last window had turned dark, he got out of the car and slowly walked to the door of what used to be his home.  
The door was locked, which for some reason made him feel even worse. He got out his key and let himself in. He almost tripped over the bag that was waiting for him just inside the door.  
”Everything you'll need is in there,” Jemima's voice sounded out of the darkness of the sitting room.  
He squinted, trying to see her, but she stayed in the shadows.  
”How is he?” Sebastian asked.  
”Relieved,” she answered. ”That it's finally over. That he can be safe from your abuse.”  
Sebastian cringed. ”You know that's not true. He wanted what we had. What we did. I don't know what you have done to change him, but I never laid a hand on him at a time or in a way that he didn't want.”  
”That's not what it looked like,” she said. ”It looked like you beat him and then raped him. And that's also what it sounded like when he was crying in my arms afterwards.”  
”Liar,” Sebastian muttered, but he didn't argue any further. He knew he had lost whatever game it was that she was playing. With a sigh he picked up his bag. ”I would ask you to tell him goodbye for me, and that I am going to miss him, but I don't expect you will.”  
She didn't answer, so he turned towards the door. Then he paused and looked at the keys in his hand. The one for the house and the one for the car that Jim had given him. He turned towards the dark sitting room and hurled them in the direction where her voice had come from. Then he left, slamming the door behind him.  
…  
Jemima walked slowly up the stairs, her fingers playing idly with the keys in her hand. As she approached the door to the bedroom, she listened carefully, but there were no sounds from within. She opened the door and saw Jim curled up on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest.  
He looked up at her, his eyes slightly red. “Is he gone?” he asked. “Is it over?”  
She held up the keys for him to see and for a moment his eyes grew round and shocked. Then he closed them tight and let out a high-pitched keening. She rushed to him and tried to hug him, but he pulled away. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his body shook with violent sobs.  
“Sebastian,” he whimpered. “Don't leave me, tiger, don't leave me.”  
She bit back her own tears and reached out a hand to stroke his hair gently. “It's okay, love,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.”  
He cried for almost an hour before he would let her hold him. Then he sobbed into her shirt until he was exhausted and drifted off, still whimpering softly. She kept stroking his hair and back, finally letting her own tears flow.  
She would miss Sebastian too, but things had changed. There was no room for a child in the kind of life the three of them had had together. It was better this way. Just her, Jim and their baby. They could be a proper family. Give the child all the love they had never had when they were growing up.  
They would show their father and the world how it was done.  
…  
Mrs Anderson was peeling the potatoes for dinner when her son rushed into the kitchen.  
“Ma,” he said, slightly out of breath. “The house next door... The old ugly one... It's burning.”  
She dropped the potato she had been holding and didn't even notice how it made the water in the sink splash onto the floor and up the wall. Wiping her hands on her apron, she rushed to the front door and out into the street.  
She looked at the neighbouring house and gasped. Large flames were flickering in the windows on the second floor, where the bedroom would be.  
Mr O'Shane came running down the street. “I've called it in,” he said. “Fire fighters should be here in ten minutes or less. Is anyone in there, you suppose?”  
His wife who had been standing on the pavement, staring, shook her head. “I don't think so. I saw the young boy and the girl leave in the car half an hour ago. And I haven't seen the older brother for over a week.”  
By the time the fire engine pulled up in front of the house, a group that seemed like the entire street was gathered on the opposite pavement. People were talking and staring at the flames as they spread. They had not yet reached the neighbouring houses, but Mrs Anderson was becoming increasingly nervous. Her son would not let her go back inside. Not even to get the photo albums and her mother's jewellery.  
It was dark before the fire was under control. The entire upper floor was gone and the ceiling of the lower floor. But the other houses had been spared. The onlookers cheered the fire fighters as they turned off the hoses and stood back to view the scene.  
The O'Shanes invited the Andersons to spend the night at their house, and they accepted gratefully. The next day, life on the street was almost back to normal, except for the blackened remains of what had once been the shabbiest house in the neighbourhood.  
…  
“It's been nearly three months since your last job, Ms Moriarty,” Simmons said sternly. “You cannot keep turning assignments down or we may have to terminate your employment.”  
“I'm sorry, Sir,” the young woman said, as she seemed to sink even further into the oversized jacket she was wearing. “Getting settled took longer than anticipated.”  
He frowned at her. “Your personal life is of no concern to me, Ms.” If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that this could not be the best assassin to complete training in Russia in over a decade. She certainly did not look the part. He walked to his desk and picked up a thin plastic folder.  
“This job is somewhat different from what you're used to,” he said. “But I have been assured you are up for the challenge.”  
She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  
“The boss of your first target continues to make a nuisance of himself. And it would appear that he, in the future, could become an actual threat to our… interests. Therefore it has been decided that we need a way to influence and, if necessary, control him.”  
She looked scandalised. “You want me to seduce him?”  
Simmons snorted. “No, Ms. I doubt you could if you tried. He is not susceptible to that kind of tactic. He does however have one soft spot. A younger brother, in his late teens, who has some rather unfortunate habits.” He studied her and was pleased to see that she was catching on.  
“Amongst other things, he is much too fond of cocaine,” Simmons continued. “And since he is already buying from one of ours, it should be easy to get close to him.”  
“You want me to befriend him?” she asked. “Keep his addiction going?”  
Simmons nodded. “Very good, Ms Moriarty. But not just that. His brother is growing increasingly concerned and might make a move soon to put an end to it. You must help the younger Holmes to keep his addiction hidden. To look like he's getting his life back on track.”  
She nodded. “I can do that.”  
“Keep him close. Make him trust you. In time, he will be the perfect tool to control and perhaps even subvert his brother. It will be your only task from now on.”  
She got to her feet and held out a hand. “I assume that's the necessary data,” she said, glancing at the folder in his hand. He nodded and handed it to her.  
“Good luck, Ms Moriarty,” he said. Then he frowned. There was something odd about the way she was standing. Her shape beneath the jacket.  
She noticed his gaze and turned away quickly, stalking out of the office. Simmons watched her leave with a growing sense of concern. He was no longer so sure she was up to the task.  
…  
Sherlock stumbled out of the door and into the street. He squinted at the all too bright daylight, as he, once more, checked that the night's earnings were secure in his pocket. Half blind, he made his way to the usual spot, sighing in relief as he saw the familiar face of his dealer.  
As Sherlock left with his next hit clasped in his hand, he stumbled and nearly fell. A small hand on his arm was the only thing saving him from what could have been a very painful fall. He turned and looked down into the smiling face of a young woman, only a few years older than himself.  
“You look like hell,” she said bluntly. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”


	19. Chapter 19

He was trembling. ”I need another one, Jemima. Please, let me have another one.”  
She sat down next to him on the bed and stroked his hair gently. ”I'm sorry Sherlock dear, but I don't have any more. And I'm all out of cash too.”  
He whined and rolled over. If he hadn't been in so much discomfort, he would have sulked.  
”Look, Sherlock,” she said with a sigh. ”If I could, I'd be happy to try and get us some money, but I won't get much business looking like this.” She ran a hand over her visibly pregnant belly. ”I've tried, remember?”  
He tried to sit up. ”Then I must go, though god knows I won't make much. I reek of desperation. I will probably end up doing hand jobs for a fiver.”  
”No,” she said, pushing him back down gently. ”You're not hitting the streets again. We've talked about it. The risk of you being spotted is too big. You'll just have to ride this one out and then we can go back to working the clubs once you've recovered.”  
”Not again,” he moaned, covering his eyes. ”I can't keep doing this. It's killing me.”  
”I know, honey,” she said, continuing to stroke his hair. ”I know.” Then suddenly she jumped off the bed. ”Actually, if you feel up to working, I might be able to find you a customer willing to come here. And he pays well.”  
Sherlock lifted his head enough to look at her. ”Who?”  
”Some rich kid. He used to be a regular of mine before...” She gestured to her belly. ”We still keep in touch. He's a nice guy. Really.”  
”And what makes you think he'd be interested in me?”  
”Oh, he prefers other boys. He said he made an exception for me because I was so incredibly hot.” She giggled. ”Should I give him a call?”  
”Sure...” Sherlock let himself fall back down, burying his face in the pillow. ”I'll get a shower… in a minute...”  
…  
When Sherlock came back out, towelling his hair, Jemima was still pretending to be on the phone. ”That's not necessary, honey,” she said. ”He's very discrete.” Then she paused as if listening. ”Okay. I'll tell him. I'm sure he'll agree to it.”  
She 'hung up' and turned to Sherlock. ”He'll be here in twenty minutes. And he'll pay you well. But he has one condition.”  
”Condition?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
”Yes,” she smiled. ”You see, most of his family are public figures and he's been getting heat about his 'lifestyle', so he's a bit paranoid these days. He asked that you'd be blindfolded. Is that okay with you?”  
Sherlock frowned, clearly not too keen on the idea. But she had chosen the right time for this. He was desperate. Finally he nodded and went to the dresser to find some clothes.  
She beamed at him and went over to help. ”He has a thing for tight black shirts,” she told him. ”I know it's hard to get anything tight on you, but maybe one of my old t-shirts will do the trick.”  
He laughed and let her dress him up in the tight shirt, that was also much too short, and his least faded jeans. He protested a bit about the lack of underwear, but she assured him the jeans sat better on him like that.  
Then she heard Jim's car pull up and she hurried to dig up a dark scarf.  
”Sit on the bed, honey,” she instructed and when Sherlock obeyed, she tied it over his eyes.  
As she got off the bed he reached out a hand. ”Can you stay?” he asked. ”Will he mind?”  
She almost laughed out loud but managed to sound uncertain. ”I'm not sure, but I can ask him.”  
…  
Sherlock was feeling very uncomfortable. The blindfold combined with the beginning withdrawal was making him slightly dizzy. He heard a knock on the door and Jemima walking over to open it.  
He heard her kiss someone's cheek and then a soft male voice spoke: “You were right. He's very pretty.”  
”Oh yes,” Jemima said in her working-voice. ”It's a shame about the blindfold though. He really has the most amazing eyes.”  
”That might be, but it's either like this or not at all,” the voice answered.  
Even in this state Sherlock's mind got to work. It was a young man, about his own age. He did indeed come from a wealthy family, but also had a hint of the streets to his accent which was clearly Irish. He was calm, extremely confident, and from the sound of his footsteps, neither tall nor heavy.  
Then he tensed as he felt a hand on his cheek. ”Such a beautiful mouth,” the young man said. ”Is it as good as it looks?”  
Sherlock's stomach dropped. He had used his mouth before when working, but he wasn't too keen on it. Some customers had been very rough and forceful, making him gag and even causing a bit of bruising. He preferred using his hands, even though it meant working three or four times as much to earn the same money. But he needed cash. And lots of it. No matter how wealthy this kid was, he couldn't expect him to pay well for a simple hand job.  
So he nodded once and was awarded with an appreciative chuckle. He heard a zipper and then Jemima walking over. He almost sighed in relief. She was opening the foil around a condom and then to his surprise, she put it on the stranger. Then she leaned down and whispered in his ear. ”Open your mouth, honey. And don't worry.”  
Sherlock did as he was told and felt the heat and weight of the head of an unfamiliar cock resting against his lower lip. He readied himself for the invasion of his mouth, but nothing more happened. Hesitantly he raised a hand, to grab around the base of the cock and guide it slowly into his mouth. He had never given head to someone wearing a condom before and the sensation was quite frankly very odd. For a moment he indulged himself, letting his tongue familiarize itself with the texture as well as the shape of the other man.  
This was apparently the right thing to do, because he felt his cheekbone being stroked gently by what he assumed was a thumb. He continued licking for a while but then a slight movement let him understand that it was time to get to work. So he sucked, hollowing his cheeks and began bobbing his head.  
The hand moved from his cheek to his hair where the fingers tangled in the curls. But they didn't pull or try to control him. The hand just followed his movements as the fingers played with his hair.  
It seemed to last forever. At first Sherlock was just doing a job, but then, to his surprise he found himself almost enjoying it. Giving head like this, in complete control, was not at all unpleasant.  
But then his jaw began aching and the muscles in his neck grew tired. Usually he had his customers finished in a matter of minutes, ready to move on, but this guy seemed to have almost unnatural stamina. Sherlock sucked harder and used his hand to stroke and squeeze too.  
Finally the guy came with a soft grunt, and Sherlock could feel the condom being filled. Everything seemed to stop for a moment, then the guy pulled out of Sherlock's mouth and removed the condom. Jemima was at his side, Sherlock realised, and he wondered if she had been there the whole time. He could hear her kissing the other man and then they walked to the door.  
…  
As soon as Jim was gone, Jemima turned to Sherlock. ”You can take it off now, honey,” she said. With a sigh of relief he ripped the blindfold off and got to his feet.  
She walked over and took his hands in hers. ”Was it bad?” she asked, putting on a mask of concern.  
He shook his head. ”Not at all. He was surprisingly gentle.”  
Jemima nodded. ”He always is. That's why I've always done my best to keep him as a regular.” Then she giggled. ”Well, this too, I suppose.” She held up the money and Sherlock gasped when he realised that he had just made one hundred pounds.  
”Looks like your getting high tonight after all,” she said, teasingly. ”Get your equipment ready and I'll run down and score for you, okay?”  
He didn't let go of her hand. ”Thank you,” he said. ”I still don't know why you're doing this for me.”  
”Because I like you,” she said. ”You are sweet and funny. And because I like being able to help.” She kissed his cheek, withdrew her hand and headed for the door. ”I'll be right back.”  
…  
An hour later Sherlock was lying on the bed, so wasted that he might as well be dead. Jemima checked his breathing and then took her phone and went outside to call Jim.  
“Oh my god, love,” he blurted out as he answered the phone. “That was so fucking hot.”  
She laughed. “Yes, I must say it looked rather spectacular. He really does have quite the talent, doesn't he?”  
“Nothing like you, love,” Jim purred. “But he did a very good job. And having you watch, certainly didn't lessen the experience.”  
“I'm glad,” she said. “Because you'll be coming back.”  
She held the phone out and away from her ear as he cheered.  
“He needs to support his own habit but we can't have it out on the streets if we are to keep it hidden from Big Brother. So you as his regular will solve all our problems.”  
“Including my growing frustrations at having you spend most nights at that dingy place with him.”  
She laughed. “Don't worry, you'll be more than satisfied.” She paused dramatically. “I want you to corrupt him. Completely.”  
“I like the sound of that.” Jim chuckled.  
“You would. For all his slutty looks and experience with his hands and mouth, he's still a virgin. We have to change that. It's too tied up with his self-restraint. If we want him to spiral completely into hell, we need to break his self-control.”  
“So I get to fuck his virgin arse?” Jim asked eagerly.  
“I would have put it a little more delicately, but yes.”  
“I love you more than words can say.” Jim almost sounded like he was about to cry.  
“I love you too, silly. Now I better run back up and keep an eye on him.”


	20. Chapter 20

The money didn't last long and soon Jemima brought back her mystery-friend. Sherlock was much calmer the second time, knowing what to expect. And things did indeed go as the first time. He waited on the bed, blindfolded; Jemima put on the condom and then the young man caressed Sherlock's hair and face gently as he let him control the events completely.  
The third time he was to come back, Sherlock found himself anticipating it slightly, though he would not admit it. It was just a job, a way to support his habit, he told himself. But as he put on the tight t-shirt, he felt an odd stirring in his stomach. He recalled with vivid accuracy the feeling of slowly taking that now familiar cock into his mouth and the soft, almost inaudible gasps and moans that would escape the other man.  
Sherlock supposed it should bother him that he had never seen the face of his new 'regular', but it somehow made it feel even safer. Like there was a distance between them. If Jemima hadn't been at his side, he would probably be terrified, but he believed that with her there, nothing bad could happen to him. She might be pregnant and a former addict herself, but she was strong both in body and mind. And he was quite sure that when she was threatened, she could be quite dangerous, perhaps even lethal.  
Jemima was tying the blindfold over his eyes when they heard footsteps on the stairs. She stroked his cheek gently. ”Stay on your feet,” she said. ”He'll appreciate a better view of your body. Your quite frankly gorgeous body.” She got on her toes and kissed his cheek, then rushed to the door.  
He could hear her greet the other man in the usual way and then a small gasp.  
”My my,” the soft voice said. ”What a sight.” He approached slowly and then walked around Sherlock, clearly taking his time studying every detail. When he was right behind him he paused. ”Can I touch him?” he asked, the question clearly directed at Jemima.  
But before she could speak, Sherlock answered, almost too quickly. ”Of course. We're on your time now.”  
The young man chuckled, and then Sherlock felt a gentle hand on his hip. He tensed a little, not from nervousness, but because the touch sent a curious, almost delicious current through his body. The hand moved around, ghosting over his hipbone and on to his flat stomach, where there was a significant gap between the low-cut jeans and the too short t-shirt.  
A single finger circled his bellybutton and then the hand was removed. The young man walked around to stand in front of Sherlock again. He put both hands on his hips, his fingertips now brushing the bare skin on his back, just above the waistline of his jeans. Sherlock barely managed to suppress a moan. He had never been touched like that. It was so gentle. And so incredibly intimate.  
Then the young man spoke again. ”Can I kiss you?” he asked.   
Sherlock hesitated. Besides Jemima he had never kissed someone voluntarily. Some customers had kissed him roughly while he jerked them off and a few other kids on the street had given it a try before he could push them away. It had felt disgusting and invasive. Kissing Jemima was nice. She was very dear to him and it was a way of showing affection. But other than that, kissing had always been something unpleasant.  
But right now, he found himself wanting it. Wanting it so much that he barely registered the change in Jemima's breathing that signalled that she was not entirely satisfied with the situation. Later, when he thought back, he would conclude that it was because she had been bypassed. That the young man had spoken directly to Sherlock instead of going through her. But it was a logical thing to do, since Sherlock had been the one to answer his last question.  
Sherlock nodded, and licked his lips. There was a pause and then a hand on the back of his head pulled him down slightly. He felt a little smug at being proven right in his assessment of the other man's height as he felt soft, moist lips brush over his own. After the initial touch they locked themselves more firmly onto his. Sherlock found himself returning the kiss without even thinking.  
The hot breath, the wet sounds and the stubble against his skin were all he registered as he got completely caught up in the experience. But then another sensation intruded on his consciousness. The tight pressure of the jeans as he began growing hard. He almost pulled back in surprise. He never got aroused unless by conscious choice. And certainly not from a kiss.  
But the other's hand still held him down into the kiss that was slowly growing deeper and more intense. He felt a tongue against his lips and without thinking he parted them and welcomed it inside his mouth, chasing it lazily with his own. His breathing was growing quicker, as was that of the other man, and though a part of his mind told him that this was definitely a good time to stop, his body overruled it completely.  
Then the shorter man took a tiny step forward and they were chest to chest. Sherlock's semi-erect cock pressed against a narrow bony hip and then he felt an unmistakable hardness against his own thigh. Both of them moved at the same time, rubbing subtly against the other and the friction was, for lack of a better word, stunning.  
Sherlock gasped and took a step back. His legs hit the edge of the bed and with a surprised yelp he sat down suddenly and hard. The blood was pounding in his ears, almost drowning out the low chuckle that came closer and told him that the young man was now kneeling or squatting in front of him.  
“It's okay,” he said, his soft voice filled with a mix of mirth and something else. “I liked it too.” He placed his hands on Sherlock's thighs, rubbing his thumbs gently over the tight fabric. “I liked it very much.” There was a long pause in which Sherlock slowly got his breathing under control. Then he felt the hands on his thighs moving very slowly upwards. “Can I touch?” the soft voice asked.  
Sherlock bit his lip, unsure how to respond. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had all but forgotten Jemima was here. That she had seen the whole thing. Her presence calmed him and he gave a tiny nod.  
“Yes,” Jemima said. He could tell from her voice that she was smiling.  
One of the hands left his thigh and a moment later it pressed gently against the bulge in his jeans. Completely beyond his control his cock twitched at the touch and the other man chuckled. “Impressive,” he mused. “Can I see it?”  
Jemima must have nodded because a moment later there were fingers on the button and then the zipper. And then he felt cool air against the burning hot skin. He was beginning to feel very exposed, but then Jemima stroked his cheek gently and whispered in his ear: “It's okay darling. I'm here.”  
…  
Jemima frowned at Jim as he knelt between Sherlock's legs. This was not at all what they had agreed on. Jim was supposed to just use Sherlock for head for at least a week or two more, making him dependent on Jim's money, before moving on and then it was all about getting Sherlock to agree to giving up his virginity. All this kissing and touching was definitely not part of the plan. But as she saw Sherlock's hard cock spring out of the tight jeans, and heard his shaky breath, she realised that Jim knew exactly what he was doing. He was just, as usual, being extremely clever and sneaky about it.  
So when he held out his hand towards her, she did not protest, but merely gave him the condom. Sherlock tensed at the sound of the foil being ribbed and she focused on soothing him with words and touches as Jim rolled it on him. Then Jim looked up at her and held her eyes with his as he leaned in and took Sherlock's cock in his mouth. Sherlock gasped and trembled a little, and Jemima smirked at Jim who got a disgustingly smug look in his eyes as he began bobbing his head.  
It didn't take long. After only a few minutes of strangled moans and a lot of lip-biting, Sherlock came with a small sound that sounded almost like crying. Jim sat back and winked up at Jemima. Then he got to his feet and bent down to kiss Sherlock gently. It was a very brief kiss and then his lips were on Jemima's as he pressed two 100 £ notes into her hand. A moment later he was gone and she gently removed the blindfold from Sherlock's eyes.  
…  
Sherlock couldn't sleep. The high had worn off hours ago, but he just lay there staring into the darkness and listening to Jemima snoring gently next to him. He still didn't quite understand what had happened. Of course he knew what had literally happened, but it just didn't make sense. Why would someone pay to give him head? Why had he even done it in the first place?  
Sherlock knew what he was. A junkie and a cheap prostitute. But this young man had touched him, kissed him and then went down on him. No one had ever treated Sherlock like that before. So kind and gentle. In fact, no one had ever gotten him off before without expecting something in return. It had felt so good, even with the condom, so soft and warm. And that boy had done things with his tongue that Sherlock had not known were possible.  
Absurdly, Sherlock found himself wishing that he hadn't paid him. He needed the money desperately, but they had somehow cheapened the whole thing. The kiss afterwards had melted something inside of him. Had sent a kind of warm wave through his body. But then, when he saw the money in Jemima's hand afterwards, it was as if his insides turned to ice. It hadn't been about him at all. The young man just liked sucking cock.  
As Sherlock gritted his teeth he thought bitterly that if that was his game, he was welcome to come and suck as much as he wanted to. Especially if he paid like that every time.  
…  
“You are such a naughty naughty boy,” Jemima said the moment Jim opened the door, pushing him backwards into their flat. “Who told you you could go down on Sherlock?”  
Jim chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and spun them both around. He kicked the door closed behind him and then steered her towards the sofa. “You liked the show?” he asked before kissing her.  
“It was… interesting,” she countered as she pulled out of the kiss. “I'd almost forgotten how wicked that mouth of yours can be.”  
“Well then,” Jim said and winked, as he pushed her gently down on the sofa. “Better remind you then.” He kneeled between her legs and pushed her skirt up only to look up at her in mock surprise. “You came prepared, I see.”  
She giggled as she let herself slide down a little and hooked her legs over his shoulders. “Less talking more licking,” she ordered and then moaned as he obeyed. A hand tangled in his hair insured that he didn't do his usual trick but finished her properly. Then she let him get up and watched him with a lazy smile as he frantically pulled down his pants and trousers.  
As he pushed into her he placed a gentle hand on her stomach. “You're getting so big,” he said, sounding almost reverent.  
“I'm supposed to, you dolt,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him inside her. They had had so little time together for the months she'd been working with Sherlock. And now her due-date was looming on the horizon, which would mean the end of life as they knew it. No more shagging on the sofa, floor or anywhere else the fancy struck them. Soon it would be all diapers and toys and night-time feedings. She wondered, not for the first time, if they were really ready for this. She looked at Jim, his eyes closed, as he leaned in over her slightly. He was so young. Barely nineteen. Was it fair, pinning him down with this kind of responsibility?  
Then he looked up at her and all doubts vanished. The moments their eyes met she knew, as always, that they were meant to be together forever. And that everything was going to be alright.


	21. Chapter 21

”He wants to fuck you.”  
Because of Jemima's casual tone of voice, it took a moment for the actual meaning of the words to register. Sherlock choked on the smoke he had just inhaled and coughed for almost a minute before he was able to speak.  
”Wh... What?” he sputtered.  
She smiled and thumped his back. ”My friend. Your new regular. He told me he wants to fuck you.”  
”No...” Sherlock said without thinking. ”I can't... I have never...”  
She interrupted him. ”He knows. That's why he's so keen. Says he'll pay you very well.”  
Sherlock hesitated a moment. ”How much?” he asked.  
”We haven't settled anything yet. I wanted to talk to you first,” she said, smiling a little triumphantly. ”I honestly think you can name your own price as long as you keep it within reason.”  
Sherlock considered, then shook his head. ”No. I won't do that for money. No matter how much money.”  
She studied him for a moment. ”I understand. I'll tell him.”  
…  
Sherlock had expected the visits to stop after that, but a few days later the young man was back. This time, though Sherlock wasn't quite sure how it happened, they ended up naked on the bed, sucking each other. It was the most intimate experience of Sherlock's life and he still had no idea what the man looked like or who he was.  
Afterwards he felt a little drained and spent the night brooding in Jemima's arms while she slept, the baby inside her squirming and kicking.  
The next morning he made his decision. The money from the previous night would last them a week or more, but he might as well keep ahead of the game.  
”I'll do it,” he told her. ”You set the price.” Then, without another word, he left to score his drugs and then walk the streets of London for hours, thinking about what he had just agreed to and why.  
It wasn't just the money. He needed it, but not that bad. It was something about this unknown young man. The way he could make him feel. He took what he wanted, but he was so gentle about it, that Sherlock always felt that it was precisely what he had wanted to give. So why not give him this? Though Sherlock's interest in sex had always been practically non-existent, he had, naturally, been curious.  
It was not really a big issue, losing his virginity. It was just something he had never cared to do before now. But something had changed. Last night, when he had had his face buried between the thighs of this young man, who was hardly more than a boy, he had felt… safe. Known. For the first time in his life. He did not understand this connection. They didn't have any kind of relationship. They didn't even know each other. He was a prostitute getting paid for his services. But still he couldn't help feeling that there was something more than sex going on.  
Or maybe he was just kidding himself. Maybe he just wanted to try it and earn a minor fortune in the process.  
…  
”You did it,” Jemima told an eagerly grinning Jim. ”He's in.”  
He hugged and then kissed her. ”Perfect. When do I get to shag him?” he asked, before placing a loving hand on her rather impressive belly.  
”Patience, love,” she said, laughing. ”I was thinking this weekend. We want the money to run out first, so there will be an extra incentive. Can't have him backing out, can we?”  
”No. That would be such a shame.” He kissed her again. ”Anything special you want to see, or just a good shagging?”  
She smiled as she stroked his cheek gently. ”Work your magic on him,” she said. ”Make him fall apart as you used to with me.”  
He frowned. ”Used to? Has it been that long? Have I been neglecting you?”  
She shook her head. ”That's not what I meant. It's just, after I started this job, and with the pregnancy... We don't really shag like we used to, do we? I mean, how could we?” She glanced down at her heavy and awkward figure.  
Jim thought for a moment. ”Nonsense,” he said. ”We just have to be more creative.” He took her hand and led her to the bedroom, his look of determination making her giggle in anticipation.  
…  
Sherlock was feeling on edge. His latest high had been a disappointment, the drugs being of poor quality and of much lesser quantity than usually. The money from the last visit was spent and though he had asked for it, he couldn't help but dread what he would have to do to earn more.  
Jemima fussed over him, trying to help him relax as he got ready. She joined him in the shower, though they could hardly fit there anymore, her stomach having grown so much over the last month, and she washed his hair for him, gently massaging his scalp as she worked the shampoo in. As she picked out clothes for him, he huffed.  
”Does it matter what I wear?” he asked, sounding more tetchy than he had intended. ”It's supposed to come off anyway, right?”  
She grinned at him. ”It's a special night. Of course it matters what you wear. Just because he's paying, doesn't mean you can't enjoy it.”  
The clothes she handed him were some of his favourites that he hardly ever wore except when he had to go somewhere where his brother or one of his minions might spot him: a tailored suit, a gift from his mother from before he had been told never to show his face again, and a tight-fitting purple shirt.  
He almost laughed. ”That? He's fucking me, not taking me on a date.”  
”Go ahead and spoil the mood, Sherlock,” she chided. ”You look good in this. So fit and… confident. I figured that it might give you a boost. Make you feel less exposed.”  
He considered for a moment. She was actually right. Even though he'd be blindfolded and doing a job, being well-dressed rather than looking like a… like a whore, would probably make the experience a lot less daunting.  
So he put on the suit and then paced the room restlessly while Jemima watched him from the edge of the bed.  
When they heard footsteps on the stairs, he turned to her and, without thinking, said: ”I don't want you to be here.”  
Her expression became unreadable. Was she hurt, nervous or angry? He wasn't sure. ”Why?” she said. ”I thought you wanted me to keep an eye on him, make sure nothing goes wrong.”  
Sherlock shrugged. ”You've told me I can trust him, and I think you are right. I just don't want to be watched... not for this.”  
She studied him intently and then, as they heard a knock on the door, nodded and quickly put the blindfold on.  
Sherlock stood in the middle of the room as he heard her walk to the door and open it. No words were exchanged but he suspected a lot was communicated through looks. A moment later, the door closed and he could hear Jemima walking slowly down the stairs. Then he tensed as he more sensed than heard the young man approach.  
”I am glad you have decided to trust me,” the soft voice said, much too close to his ear. ”I too would prefer for us to be alone for this.”  
Sherlock almost jumped when he felt a soft hand on his cheek, and the young man laughed. ”Just relax, honey,” he purred. ”You are in good hands.” He ran his thumb over Sherlock's lips. ”You are such a gorgeous thing,” he said, and then lowered his hand and walked slowly around Sherlock. ”I've wanted to have you since the first time I saw you. But you knew that, didn't you?”  
Sherlock shook his head, not trusting his voice at that moment. He was in front of him again and Sherlock felt himself growing lightheaded as gentle hands began unbuttoning his shirt. He stood still, trying to keep his breathing calm and deep as his shirt was pushed aside and fingertips ran over his chest. But when soft, wet lips found his nipple, he gasped and a shiver ran through him.  
”Oh, you poor thing,” the young man said, standing back a little. ”There is nothing to be scared of. I'll go slowly. I promise I won't hurt you.” He pushed Sherlock's jacket off his shoulders and then continued undressing him until Sherlock stood naked and shivering in the middle of the room. He hadn't moved except for what was necessary for his clothes to be removed.  
The young man was behind him again and Sherlock could hear him remove his own jacket and shirt. Then he stepped closer. Much closer. Sherlock could feel his breath on the back of his neck and then... he gasped... two hands on his arse, moving down slowly, following the curve and meeting at the bottom.  
”Lovely,” the young man whispered in Sherlock's ear. ”Perfection.” The hands moved to his chest and suddenly the other's body was pressed close up against his. He felt a hardness against him and suddenly it was as if Sherlock snapped. He spun around and, without the least bit of fumbling, found the other's head and pulled him into a deep hungry kiss.  
They stumbled towards the bed and somehow Sherlock managed to get the other completely naked before they tumbled down in a tangle of limbs. There was a brief fight for supremacy and then Sherlock found himself giggling on his back, his hands pinned to the bed above his head, while he was being snogged like never before.  
Gradually, the urgency died down and the kisses turned slower but hotter. Then Sherlock felt a hand moving down his body, fingers brushing over his painfully hard cock and then wandering down between his legs. Rather than feeling tense, he spread his legs and tilted his hips, inviting the fingers to their goal. A single fingertip found his hole and massaged it gently, making him moan with the unexpected pleasure. Then suddenly the hand was gone, there was some movement and a squishing sound and then the finger was back, now slick with lubricant.  
Sherlock bit his lip, more in anticipation than trepidation as he felt the finger pushing more insistently and then his body slowly giving way and letting it slip inside. They both gasped and then their lips found each other again as the young man slowly pumped his finger inside Sherlock, teasing his muscles until they relaxed and accepted him without resistance.  
Then there was more movement and, while the finger remained inside him, Sherlock heard a foil packet being torn open, most likely by teeth, and then a condom was placed in his hand and it was guided to the man’s frighteningly hard cock.  
With trembling hands, he finally managed to get the condom on and then the finger was pulled out. There was the sound of more lubricant being applied and then the young man settled between his legs.  
”Relax,” he whispered as he positioned himself and pushed, very very gently. Sherlock tried to obey and found that his body, slowly but willingly, complied and took in the tip of the cock. There was a sigh and then another whisper: ”Can you feel me inside you? Does it feel good?”  
Sherlock nodded and then he felt the other push again. When the head finally slipped inside Sherlock gasped. There was some pain, but it was all but drowned out by the wonder and pleasure of this new sensation. They kissed again and slowly Sherlock felt him slide in further and further until finally he was completely sheathed inside him.  
After a long pause the man began moving and a loud groan escaped Sherlock. He had never thought that anything but drugs could make him feel so good. He began moving too and soon they found a common rhythm. It seemed to go on forever and Sherlock found his mind going blissfully blank with lazy pleasure. Then the speed of their movements increased and he was soon gasping and moaning, clinging to the young man as if his life depended on it.  
He could feel it coming, hear it from the sounds the man in his arms was making and the urgency of his movements. Sherlock kissed him hard and then felt him tense as he came, groaning and trembling. Then, staying inside Sherlock, the other shifted so he could get a hand between them. He took Sherlock's cock in his hand and began stroking him quickly. It didn't take long before Sherlock climaxed, spilling between their bodies.  
Sherlock vaguely sensed the other pull out and get off the bed. But he was fast asleep before Jim had gotten dressed and left the room, leaving five 100£ notes on the table.


	22. Chapter 22

All the nurses agreed that it was one of the most unusual shifts they had ever done at the maternity ward. The strangeness had started as soon as the couple arrived. The young mother to be, did, at first glance, seem quite typical. She was a little bit younger than the average first-time mother, but not by much. And considering that she was dressed like a prostitute, her age was even less remarkable. But then she opened her mouth. Though she looked like a tramp, she spoke like a lady. A rather colourful one, but the pronunciations and phrasings were that of the upper class.  
Then there was her companion. Many of the nurses wondered to each other what might make a woman bring her younger brother with her when she was giving birth. Did she really have no one else? No partner, no parents? The boy was so terribly young. Their surprise was almost greater than their curiosity when they realised that despite their eerily similar appearances, the two were not siblings. That the young boy was in fact the father of the baby about to be born.  
According to the forms they filled out upon arrival, he was not as young as he looked either. But still. Nineteen was an awfully young age to become a parent. And he looked so scared it almost broke their hearts. But he was still completely focused on his girlfriend, tending conscientiously to her every need, despite the abuse she began directing at him once the labour pains set in full force.  
And such abuse. Many women took out their pain on their partners, but no one on the ward had ever heard anything like this before.  
”You fucking seduced my target, you disgusting little fag,” she yelled at him.  
He muttered a response, but everyone was keeping their distance, so no one heard what he said.  
”I told you to fuck him, not make fucking love to him.”  
Another inaudible response.  
”I don't give a shit what you think. You were supposed to break him. Not make him fucking fall for you. Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've made, you… you bloody little psychopath?”  
Even from a distance the nurses could tell that the words really stung. Still, the young man remained calmly at her side, holding her hand when she let him. It went on for hours, but then, as exhaustion took over, she calmed down and let him comfort her. By the tenth hour of labour he was lying on the bed with her, holding her in his arms as they whispered together and giggled and laughed, when she wasn't overcome with the painful contractions.  
The birth itself went easy. After sixteen hours the doctor declared her fully dilated and with the first real push, a tiny but beautiful baby boy slid out. There could be no doubt that he had his mother's voice as his first breath of air ended in an ear-piercing scream that sounded throughout the whole ward.  
After a quick clean-up, the boy was handed over to his father, who, with tears of joy and pride streaming down his cheeks, carried him to his mother. As the boy, mewling and slurping, settled in for his first meal, the happy, exhausted couple looked at him, their eyes sparkling with pride.  
”Timothy?” she asked, and he nodded.  
”Timothy Moriarty.”  
…  
Jemima had disappeared. The money from the young man's last visit was completely spent and Jemima had been gone for two days. She had told Sherlock that she needed to visit her father before the baby was due. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, having been high for almost 36 hours straight, but now, he was afraid he might have hurt her. That he might never see her again.  
It had been almost morning before she had returned, after he had asked her to give him some privacy. She had been a bit quiet, but being rather ecstatic, both from the experience and the large sum it had earned him, Sherlock hadn't given it as much thought as he should have.  
She had gone out to score for him and he had spend the next couple of days drifting in and out of awareness. At some point they had talked about what had happened that night. They had been lying on the bed together. At least, that was how he remembered it, and she had been stroking his hair while he felt the baby stir under his hand. She had asked how it had been, and he had told her everything. Every single detail of that night had been forever burned into his mind. Every touch and every sound, made so much clearer by the lack of visual images.  
She had congratulated him on such a perfect first time and they had joked and giggled. But after that conversation, she had begun to withdraw. He had wondered and then, during that longest high, he had made the connection. And fool that he was, he had spoken before his mind was even done processing this new revelation.  
“He's the father, isn't he?”  
The words had just hung there in the air, unanswered and unchallenged. Twelve hours later, she had packed her bags and told him she'd be back in a couple of days. But that was almost a week ago and he had not seen or heard from her.  
If he had been right... He had been right. And he had hurt her. She was in love with the young man and sharing him with Sherlock had been a great kindness. And somehow, during that night, Sherlock had crossed a line. No... They had crossed a line together and it had hurt her. Hurt her deeply.  
As the days passed, another thought struck him. She was almost due. Had she had the baby? And if so, had she been alone? He knew she was not on good terms with her father. If she had gone into labour while with him, would he have gone with her? Or had she contacted the father of the baby? Was he with her now?  
The questions whirled around Sherlock's abused mind. Withdrawal had set in hard and he was finding it harder and harder to focus on what was really important: Jemima and her baby. And the young mysterious man, who made Sherlock feel so good in ways he could never have imagined. Whose touch was as addictive as the drugs he had paid for. Where were they? Were they together? Sherlock paced the flat, desperate for news, but not knowing where to turn.  
If he could think clearly, he'd probably find the solution, but that was not even a remote possibility at the moment. The best alternative was to dull his mind with drugs until he stopped caring. Yet even that was beyond him at the moment, having spent the last of the money.  
There were really only two options: end the torment here and now, or risk being found by his brother by taking to the streets in order to, somehow, get his hands on some money or drugs. Preferably both.  
So, with shaking hands, he got dressed and made his way down the stairs. He sought out his old haunts and somehow managed to have a dealer take pity on him. One nauseating blowjob in a back alley and he had enough to take him through the night. But it didn't last and soon he was out searching again. It became harder and harder. He reeked of desperation and that did not attract the right kind of costumers. He was tricked a couple of times, left behind without payment. One time he was beaten up too and had to make his way home, bleeding and limping and without drugs to numb the ache.  
Days drifted by in pain, shame and the occasional high. He had lost track of time completely when he heard the dreaded sound: hard, determined steps on the stairs. Several pairs of feet. His brother and two, maybe three of his men. Sherlock had known it would happen and he had a plan. He climbed out of the bedroom window onto the fire escape, secured the window behind him and made his way up onto the roof. Carefully he moved across it, until he could climb over onto the neighbouring building, where he could get in through a broken skylight.  
…  
“For fucks sake, Moriarty, answer your bloody phone,” Simmons shouted into the phone. “Holmes is gone and big brother is causing all kind of trouble. Get your arse into the office, now, or I'm terminating your contract.”  
The two men waiting by the door gasped. They knew only too well what having your contract 'terminated' meant. Simmons picked up his coat, which he had tossed on the sofa only ten minutes earlier, and looked at his guards. “We're going to pay Ms Moriarty a visit,” he said. “See if she has a valid excuse for shirking her duties.”  
The men nodded and one of them checked his weapon as they turned and preceded him out the door.  
…  
Jemima was a bit unsteady on her legs as she got out of the bed. Jim was asleep in the chair by the window, one hand on the corner of Timothy's cot. She smiled at the sight of them before carefully making her way over to the chair where her clothes had been placed, neatly folded. She found her purse and, glancing once more at Jim and the baby, she snuck out of the room.  
She didn't want to let either them out of her sight, but she had to. These last two weeks had been hell. After Jim and Sherlock's last rendezvous, she had found herself unaccountably upset with the pair of them. So she had taken off, gone to Paris and done a quick job for an old acquaintance, though he had been reluctant to give her the contract when he saw what state she was in.  
Two days ago, she had returned to London and gone home to Jim. They had been in the middle of a very heated argument about his handling of Sherlock when her water had broken.  
And here they were. Timothy seemed healthy enough and he was full term. But his small size had the doctors worried and they had insisted on them staying until they were sure he was gaining weight.  
But, in all the turmoil and confusion since she had left Sherlock at the small flat, there was something she had been neglecting. Something that could not wait for her and her son to be dismissed.  
The payphone was, thankfully, in a small room, where she could get some privacy. She put in two pounds and called her answering machine. Twenty messages... She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before playing them.  
They were from her boss. Every single one of them. Growing from annoyed to pissed off to absolutely furious. The final one made her blood run cold. Termination was the one thing she could not face. Not now, when she had both Jim and the baby to live for. She had to act. Tonight. She had to clear this whole mess up, so they could take Timothy and leave London, knowing that no one would be coming after them.  
She hung up and after a moment's thought returned to her room. As quietly as she could, she got dressed. Then she tiptoed over to Jim and kissed his forehead. “I'll be back before you wake up, my love,” she whispered. “I promise.” She paused to run a single finger over Timothy's cheek and then left.


	23. Chapter 23

Jim woke with a start. Something was wrong. His first thought was Timothy, but a quick glance assured him that his son was fine. More than fine. He was perfect. Jim's fond smile faded when he realised the bed was empty. He rushed over and placed his hand on the rumpled sheet. It was cold. So she had not just gone to the bathroom.  
He turned to the chair by the wall. Her clothes were gone. And her purse. His knees almost buckled. He didn't know where she had gone or why she would leave, but he knew it would be something bad. Something stupid and dangerous.  
He whirled around when he heard the door open. But it was not her. It was one of the nurses, Marjorie, a sweet middle-aged woman who had been very kind to them. She was smiling, but it faded when she saw her expression.  
”James,” she said. ”What's wrong?”  
He gestured to the empty bed, unable to speak. Marjorie frowned and then walked over to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. ”Do you know where she might have gone? Or why?”  
He shook his head and bit his lip. He was actually beginning to realise where she must be, but he could not tell this woman. Instead he took her hand in his and looked into her eyes.  
”Marjorie,” he said, his voice trembling a little. ”You are a wonderful woman. You are strong and kind and good. I need your help. Will you help me?”  
Marjorie seemed about to smile, but then something in Jim's tone must have sunk in. She gasped softly and then, giving his hand a squeeze, nodded.  
”I have to go after her,” he said and Marjorie nodded. ”I...” Jim closed his eyes. ”I may not return. And if I don't... If she doesn't... Others may come. The law or… bad people. They'll want to take him. Give him to strangers or maybe even hurt him. I ask you, Marjorie... I beg you... Don't let them. If Jemima or I have not returned within six hours, take our son. Get him out of here.”  
She frowned and shook her head. ”Oh, James. I can't... It doesn't work like that.”  
”Please...” he said. ”I'll find you or... provide for him in any way I can. I'm rich, Marjorie. Very rich... He'll never need anything. If you cannot keep him, you can find someone who can. A proper family. Just don't let them take him...”  
”James,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. ”You're scaring me, James. Please... tell me this is a joke. You're just a boy...” She put a hand on his cheek. ”Is it too much?” she asked. ”Did she leave you with the boy and you don't know how to be a father? You can get help for that. Or be a part of finding him a new family.”  
Despite himself, he laughed. She was a clever woman and he could understand why she would conclude this. So he did the only thing he could think of. He reached into his inner pocket and brought out a wad of 100£ bills. They had been intended for Sherlock, had he been allowed another go at him. Several goes actually, since there were 20 bills or more.  
She gasped when she saw them and tried to pull away when he put them in her hand. ”These are for him,” he said. ”If I do not return. If I do, you keep them. Just please... promise me you'll keep him safe. While I go save his mother from her own stupidity.”  
She looked at him, then the money. Then she glanced over at Timothy. Finally she looked at him again and nodded. ”I'll look after him. But you better come back, James, do you hear me? Go find that girl and then come back. Your boy needs you. More than any money in the world, he's going to need his daddy.”  
Jim bit his lip hard, to hold back a sob. He nodded and then hugged her. He went over to the cod for one final long look at Timothy and then he left the room.  
As soon as he was out the door, he began running. She had a head start of an hour or more. There was no time to waste. He could not be too late. He just couldn't.  
…  
”Sherlock, you idiot, wake up.”  
Sherlock felt hands shaking him and heard the words that cut through his sore brain without really making sense. Somehow he managed to open his eyes, but the bright lights from the window above him sent stabbing pains through his head and he covered his face with his hands as he cried out.  
”No you don't,” the voice continued. ”Stay with me. Wake up.”  
The hands were pried away, but he refused to open his eyes. Until a stinging slap across one cheek shook him out of the haze he had been hiding in for he did not know how long. He shielded his eyes before opening them again.  
It was her. Of course it was her. He smiled, though his chapped and cracked lips ached and probably began bleeding again. ”You came back,” he whispered. ”Thank you.”  
”Of course I came back, you idiot,” she said, stroking his cheek gently. ”But I almost couldn't find you. What are you doing here?”  
She glanced around the dusty room. It was bare accept for some old, moulded cardboard boxes and the ratty blankets he was wrapped up in.  
”I'm hiding,” he whispered, his voice raspy and thin. ”My brother came for me.”  
”So you went here?” she looked around. ”Why?”  
He chuckled, which made him cough violently. When he had caught his breath, he answered: ”I thought I could escape through the building. But I couldn't get the door opened. And I didn't dare go back. In case he'd left someone to guard the flat.”  
She smiled. ”He did. I had to knock the poor bloke out to get to you. I'm just amazed that he didn't think to look for you here.”  
Sherlock shrugged. ”Mycroft's smart but... narrow-minded. He's not good at thinking creatively. The flat was empty, the windows closed, ergo, I must be out and they'd just have to wait.”  
”How long?” she asked. ”How long have you been here?”  
He shrugged. ”Not sure. A couple of days I think.”  
She stood up and pulled on his arm. ”Come on. We have to get you out of here. Get you someplace warm.” She wrinkled her nose. ”And get you cleaned up.”  
He laughed softly. ”Yeah, sorry about that.”  
…  
Mycroft got out of his car. The moment his agent had stopped responding, he knew that his brother had resurfaced. Or someone who knew where his brother might be. He looked up at the building where they had found the horrible flat full of evidence of drug use and prostitution. His heart broke for his brother every time he thought of the life the poor fool had made for himself. But no more. This time, he was taking him in and not letting him go until he was sure that filth was out of his system and he had been put on a track to a proper life. One in which he wouldn't be wasting that magnificently complicated mind of his.  
He was almost at the door when a sound made him turn around. A young man was running towards him, but when he saw Mycroft, he stopped and stared at him with large, almost frightened eyes. Mycroft took a step towards him. ”Who are you?” he called. ”Are you one of Sherlock's friends? Do you know where he is?” He tried not to smile as he saw one of his agents moving in behind the young man. Even if he tried to run, they would get him. And he would tell them where Sherlock was. One way or another, they'd persuade him.  
The young man shook his head and took a step back. ”I don't know any Sherlock,” he said.  
Mycroft smiled. ”Of course you do, boy. You can tell me. I'm not the police. I'm here to help him.”  
At that moment, Mycroft's driver called out. ”Sir,” he said, pointing up.  
Mycroft and the young man both looked up. On the roof of the neighbouring building, something was moving. They were both too close to the wall to see it properly, but the driver, who was on the other side of the street had a better view. ”It's your brother,” he called. ”He's not alone. They're... They're going over the top.”  
Mycroft and the boy looked at each other for a moment and then they both ran for the door. Mycroft was the first to get through the building to the alley beyond it, but the boy was right behind him. Looking up, Mycroft could see his brother, thin and dirty, carefully making his way down from the roof to the fire escape. Someone was holding his hand, but he could not see the figure clearly from here.  
”Sherlock!” he called out. His younger brother twisted around, startled. He almost lost his balance and clutched at the other person for support. There was a scrape and then a scream. No. Two screams. Though the one from the person falling was almost indistinguishable from the one coming from the boy right next to him.


	24. Chapter 24

Bradstreet was in one of his moods, Greg decided as they walked down the hospital corridor. His squared shoulders and audible breathing were unmistakable signs of the man being irritable.  
And sure enough, his older partner treated the young nurse who greeted them with one of his patented scowls, before she had even had the chance to introduce herself.  
The young woman stammered her way nervously through the explanation about the young couple and their child, who had all disappeared the previous morning.  
”But why call the police?” Bradstreet snapped. ”The parents have obviously just bolted. It's a case for social services, if anything.”  
”Well...” The nurse bit her lip. ”The thing is that we're pretty sure it didn't happen like that. The... the mother was seen leaving alone around one in the morning. And when I looked in at six, the boy was alone. I hurried to the office to ask if anyone knew where the parents were, but when I returned with nurse Wright, the child was gone.”  
Greg Lestrade wrote it all down while Bradstreet thought it over. ”The father could have been in the bathroom when you looked,” he said. ”And collected the boy and left while you were at the office.”  
“That's what I thought,” she said. ”But then later in the day, some men came and asked about them. Unpleasant types. They seemed very angry about them being gone. Especially the one in a suit. I was afraid he was going to hit someone.”  
Lestrade went with her to the office to get a list of all the nurses who had been on duty at the time, while Bradstreet went to ask the front desk about the three men.  
…  
Back at the Yard, they both went to work making calls and checking up backgrounds.  
Shortly after lunch, Greg ran to his partner’s desk. ”I've found the mother,” he said, a little breathless.  
”Oh?” Bradstreet said, with a critically raised eyebrow. Greg had only started a month ago and had still to prove himself in his partner's opinion, so he questioned everything he did and said. ”Is the child with her?”  
”I hope not,” Greg said. ”She's in the morgue at St. Barts.”  
”Bloody hell.” Bradstreet got to his feet and reached for his coat. ”Are you sure it's her?”  
Greg nodded. ”Autopsy showed that she had just given birth. Apparently she fell from the roof of a building downtown.”  
On the way to the morgue, Greg filled him in on the situation. The young woman had been on the roof or fire escape with a young man. Clearly not the father, since this one not only did not match the description of 'James Murphy', but was already known to the police, as well as being the younger brother of the up and coming councilman, Mycroft Holmes.  
”So she's another junkie?” Bradstreet concluded. ”What about the Holmes brat? Did he fall too?” He almost sounded hopeful.  
”No,” Greg said, frowning. ”His brother was there along with some staff. Apparently they brought him to a private clinic after an ambulance had taken away the woman.” He studied the report. ”One of Holmes's men went with her in the ambulance, it seems. But he disappeared at the hospital.”  
…  
Mycroft Holmes proved to be the toughest nut Greg had ever had to crack. But finally he allowed Greg to visit his brother in rehab.  
The young man looked terrible. Not only was he suffering from severe withdrawal, but he was also being treated for pneumonia, malnourishment and shock.  
He didn't tell him much, both because of his weakened state and because he was very reluctant to speak of the woman he had lived with for the past six months. He told Greg her name was Jemima, but that he knew very little about her. She used to be a prostitute and addict but had quit when she became pregnant. Young Holmes was pretty sure that the father of the child was a former customer of hers, but he knew even less about him, except that he was wealthy and very young.  
It wasn't much help, but Greg spent as much time as he could with the young man, who was clearly broken up over the death of his friend. He blamed himself, saying that she would never had been on that roof if she hadn't been trying to help him.  
He didn't know anything about the fate of the baby, but expressed hope that it was with its father.  
”He was a very gentle man,” he said. ”Calm and affectionate.”  
Greg frowned. ”I thought you didn't know him. Did you meet him?”  
Sherlock Holmes closed his mouth with an almost audible snap. After a moment he shook his head. ”No... She told me about him.”  
Greg didn't believe him, but couldn't get him to talk more about it. And soon after, he was shooed out by a nurse who insisted that the patient needed to rest.  
…  
Marjorie struggled getting the pram on the train until a friendly couple helped her. Timmy thankfully slept through the whole thing.  
She had brought formula and a thermos of boiled water, so once she was settled, she prepared a bottle for him and then gently picked him up. He was so quiet. She had heard him scream when he first arrived, but since his parents left, he'd been completely calm. When he wasn't sleeping he'd just be watching her with those big dark eyes.  
When she realised that his parents' disappearances had been discovered, she had brought him home. But then her friend had called to tell her that the police was questioning everybody at the ward and she had decided to run for it. All she had was a single bag with clothes and Timmy's stuff. And of course the money his father had given her.  
Once he had finished his meal, Timmy drifted off again, and Marjorie allowed herself to relax, looking out at the darkening landscape that flew by the window. She was taking him north. They were going to stay with an old friend of hers in Crieff. She had made the call from a payphone at the station and they would be picked up at the station.  
What she would do once she got there was still uncertain. She couldn't just get a job, since the police might be searching for her. Not unless she could change her name or something. But they couldn't just live off her friend either. That wouldn't be right.  
And what about the boy? His father had said that he would find him. But how? If she had to stay hidden from the police, surely she'd be as untrackable to him. He was, after all, just a kid himself. An unsettlingly wealthy kid, but still...  
…  
At a bus stop just round the corner from St. Barts sat a young man. His face was hidden in his hands and his shoulders were slumped. Buses and commuters passed, but he did not move, apart from the gentle trembling that sometimes shook his body.  
An elderly woman tried talking to him at some point, concerned that he might be ill, but he did not respond and when her bus came, she gave up. Finally, when it was close to midnight, he got to his feet and, swaying slightly as he walked, got on the last bus south.  
The woman sitting across from him noticed his tear-streaked face and her heart ached for him. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but her husband took hold of her hand and shook his head.  
So the boy was left alone until the driver told the remaining passengers that this was the end of the line. The boy stood for a moment, looking around, but not really seeing. Then he wandered off into the night.  
…  
Larson was practically asleep. He had been stationed here in the empty flat across from the building Moriarty had lived in, keeping an eye out for her elusive partner. But in the week since she had died, no one matching his description had entered the building and no one had been inside their flat.  
Michaels had gone out to fetch them something to eat and Larson was sitting by the window, supposedly keeping an eye on the entrance to the other building. He heard the floors creak a moment too late and before he could spin around there was a knife at his throat and a soft voice whispered in his ear: ”You and I need to have a little talk.”


	25. Chapter 25

The glow of the computer screen was the only source of light in Simmons's office. But it might as well have been off too, as he had his face hidden in his hands.  
He was very different from the man who had been sitting behind this very desk five years ago, when he had been in control of the largest criminal organisation in Western Europe. Now he had nothing. Well, almost nothing. He still had his houses, cars and three of his lovers. But the rest was gone. His wife had left him last night, taking the children with her. But that had only really been the last straw.  
He looked up, hardly daring to glance at the gun on the table in front of him. How had it come to this? He had been on top of the world. He'd had it all. And then, somehow, things had started going wrong. First funds had gone missing. Lots of small amounts, but quickly amounting to a very big problem. Then deals had begun falling through. Old contacts had cut him off. And then his employees had begun… dying.  
Someone had been picking them off one by one. In their homes, on the street, even one when vacationing in Spain. Never while they were on the job. They'd go home for the weekend and just… die. Shot, stabbed, strangled, pushed off buildings, smothered with pillows, poisoned or... taking five of them and a poker table in one go, blown up.  
For the fifth time in less than ten minutes, Simmons reached for the gun, but stopped himself. It was the only option really. Not only had he lost everything. But, somehow, a branch of the Asian mob now believed that he was the one responsible for the raid on one of their warehouses in Glasgow, during which drugs worth several millions had been confiscated and about a dozen of their people had been killed or arrested.  
He'd received the message this morning. They were coming for him. He knew death at their hands would not be quick nor in any way merciful. So this was really the only option left to him. To end it himself. Here, alone and with what he hoped would be little pain. He buried his face in his hands again. If only he wasn't such a coward. If only he could be a man, this one last time.  
He heard the door open softly and reached for the gun. This was it. His last chance.  
But instead of a group of ninja-like henchmen come to collect him, before him stood a young man. He looked to be in his early twenties, was short and skinny and had large and somehow unsettlingly familiar dark eyes.  
His long bleached hair made him look odd. Almost sickly. Or maybe that was the dark rings around his eyes. Those eyes... Simmons racked his brain. Where had he seen this man before?  
Still holding the gun, he watched as the young man approached. He did not look threatening. Not really. Just kept his eyes on Simmons. The eyes.  
Then it hit him. He gasped. He had seen those eyes before. But not in that face. Those had been the eyes that had twinkled mischievously at him as Jemima Moriarty had accepted her final assignment and hurried out of his office, trying to hide her pregnant state from him.  
So this must be... But no... Surely this couldn't be the child. The child would only be four now. Five maybe. So this must be someone else. But someone closely related to her. Had she had a brother? Maybe a twin? ”Mo... Moriarty?” he gasped.  
The young man nodded and Simmons echoed the movement. Yes, she had a brother. James, as far as he could remember.  
He had not thought about that girl in so many years. That foolish girl. He had been searching for her when she'd had her accident. And fucked up everything completely. Both of the Holmes brothers had slipped through his fingers and forever out of his grasp. The younger one had gone through rehab and then entered university under careful supervision of his brother and his minions.  
All because Jemima Moriarty had decided to squirt out her baby, right in the middle of the job. And then die right in front of her target, leaving him so traumatised he did not even resist when his brother had him admitted to the private clinic.  
But why was her brother here? Simmons opened his mouth to ask, but the young man shook his head and glanced at the gun that hung forgotten in his limp hand. For a long moment they just looked into each other's eyes. Then, finally, Simmons nodded, closed his eyes and raised the gun.  
…  
The loud bang made Emma scream. She had only been working in the office for a week and already knew the job wouldn't last long. Her boss was a mess. He was supposed to have been somebody at some point. But now he was just a burned out loser, pretending to still run a business. But as far as she had been able to tell, whatever he'd had was long gone. She had done nothing but sit behind the desk for a week, playing solitaire on the computer.  
The young man she had shown in had been the first visitor she had seen. And he hardly seemed like someone who had come for business. Unless of course he was a rent boy. She giggled and blushed, picturing him on his knees in her bosses office. She wouldn't put it past the old bastard.  
But then the shot sounded and she was on her feet and at the door before she had even had time to think.  
The young man was just standing there. Right in the middle of the room, looking at the desk where her boss was supposed to be sitting. Then she noticed the red spray on the wall and gasped.  
He turned to look at her and his smile made her shiver. Then he walked over to the desk, shifted something heavy with his foot and then sat down in the chair, turning to the computer.  
”So, Miss Clark,” he said, his voice soft and warm. ”Shall we get started?”  
…  
Larson straightened his tie and glanced at the small mirror next to the panel of buttons. He had not been in this lift for half a decade and he had honestly not believed he would ever be back inside this building.  
The years as Moriarty's right hand man had been surreal to say the best. Hunting down his former friends and colleagues, hiding for months at a time in derelict buildings or off shore hotel rooms.  
Somewhere along the way they had become lovers. Well... sort of. It was a strange kind of relationship. Larson did not doubt that Moriarty had no real feelings for him and that if their association ever became inconvenient he could as easily leave him as kill him.  
He knew that his best chance of survival would be to run for it. Surely he was not important enough to Moriarty to be worth tracking down. He was just an extra pair of hands for the dirty work and a willing body when he needed to unwind.  
It had started in the worst imaginable way. That night so long ago when Moriarty had approached him and almost killed him. Somehow Larson had managed to convince him that he would need help in taking down Simmons' empire. And that Larson could be trusted.  
So they had run for it. Stayed away from London for nearly six months while Moriarty focused on the computers and Larson did all the other work of setting up a flat and a sort of life for them.  
Then, one night, he had been woken up by Moriarty screaming. He had run to his young boss’s bedroom, only to find him in the throws of what must have been a horrific nightmare. Larson had tried waking him up but suddenly found himself flat on his back, with Moriarty's hands in a surprisingly strong grip around his neck. He had looked into his eyes and seen nothing but fear and madness. Convinced that he was about to die, he had lashed out in panic and somehow managed to punch Moriarty hard enough to make him loosen his grip.  
They had fought. Wrestled, punched and clawed at each other, rolling around on the bed, tangled up in the sheets and each other's limbs. And then suddenly he had found Moriarty's lips on his in a hard and very demanding kiss.  
He had tried to push him away in disgust. He was not gay. Not even the slightest bit curious.  
But Moriarty had a good grip on him and he couldn't escape. So he closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. Suddenly Moriarty pulled back and then, to his utter astonishment, Larson found himself flipped over by a young boy who hardly weighed half as much as himself. A sharp blow to the side of his head left him dazed just long enough for Moriarty to tie his hands together and secure them to a bedpost, and that was when Larson realised that this was not just pretty bad. This was his worst nightmare come true.  
But, having secured him, Moriarty seemed to calm down. Instead of attacking him in any way, he lay down flat on Larson's back and began kissing his neck and shoulders softly. ”Don't worry, Tiger,” he whispered. ”I'm not going to hurt you. I've just missed you so much. Why did you leave me?”  
Larson opened his mouth to answer… something... But a warning hiss from Moriarty made him keep quiet. He didn't really know what was going on, but he was beginning to realise that he was playing a part. A part from the dream that had made his boss scream and had now turned him into a dangerous but gentle predator.  
Moriarty shifted a little and then Larson felt a hand going down the back of his boxers. He tensed immediately, but the probing finger did nothing but brush over his hole, and to his surprise it did not feel unpleasant at all. In fact, it sent a wave almost like electricity through him, that made his body shiver and his cock twitch.  
Then the finger was gone and Moriarty was whispering again. “Did you miss me, Tiger? Have you been thinking about me? What I used to do to you? Do you remember?”  
Larson found himself nodding, not sure what he was agreeing to, but certain that playing along was the wisest course of action at this time.  
”I've thought about it too,” Moriarty purred. He raised his hand to his mouth, sucked on his finger, and then it was back, teasing and pushing. Unable to stop himself Larson moaned and raised his hips a little, as if to meet the finger.  
Moriarty giggled and pushed. And suddenly the finger was inside Larson and it hurt like hell but still felt so good. He buried his head in the pillow to keep from screaming or making any other embarrassing noises.  
Moriarty began kissing and sucking on his neck again while he slowly fucked his arse with his finger. ”I want you, Tiger,” he whispered between kisses. ”I need you, Tiger.”  
Finally Larson could take it no longer. He lifted his head and, biting his lip hard, nodded.  
The finger was withdrawn, there were sounds of movement and then everything was pain as something much larger than a finger was forced into him. Moriarty did not hold back but continued pushing slowly until his rather large cock was sheathed completely inside Larson, who was fighting back tears of pain and humiliation.  
It seemed to last forever and somewhere along the way, pain turned to pleasure and he was moaning and begging before it was over. Moriarty emptied himself inside him and then turned Larson over to finish him with his mouth.  
He had left him tied up for the rest of the night, snuggled up to him and sleeping with a happy little smile on his lips. Larson had finally gone to sleep and woken up alone, with his hands freed and a rather significant pain as a reminder that it had indeed not been a dream.  
But even the pain was not completely unpleasant. Because it brought back to him the parts of the night that had felt really good. Better than anything he had ever experienced. And although they never talked about it, three nights later, Larson found himself back in his boss’s bed, on his hands and knees crying out in ecstasy as he was fucked over and over again.  
He was never allowed to speak while they fucked, and he knew that when Moriarty called him Tiger, he was really thinking about someone else, but he did not complain. He had never had better sex, and though he was always on the receiving end, Moriarty never left him unsatisfied. And there was no denying the fact that his boss was a lot easier to work with when he got laid a couple of times a week.  
He liked it rough and Larson soon found that he quite enjoyed getting tied up and smacked around a bit. The one thing he could not deal with was a cock in his mouth, but after the first few attempts, Moriarty caught on and didn't try to force him. He, on the other hand, would use his mouth, tongue and even throat eagerly. The first time Moriarty rimmed him, Larson nearly came without any of them touching his cock.  
In short: in spite of all the weirdness, he was very happy with the arrangement. And now Simmons was out of the way, things would only get easier. No more cheap hotels or creaky cots. They had a penthouse overlooking London where, though Larson had a room of his own, he spent most nights in the large round bed, cuddling his boss who still, when he slept, looked impossibly young for someone who had killed trained assassins with his bare hands and taken over one of Europe's largest organised crime syndicates.  
…  
“Uncle James is coming to see you.”  
Those words always started a chain reaction of feverish running about as little Timothy prepared for his uncle's visit. Every drawing he had done, puzzle he had solved or book he had learned by heart (or, in the last few months actually managed to spell his way through) was laid out on the living room floor. Uncle James wanted to see them all.  
While Ma watched from the door, they'd go over Timmy's accomplishments one by one, and his uncle would test him and then praise him. And when they were done, there'd be tea and biscuits and uncle James would tell him wonderful stories of thrilling adventures or magical realms.  
Timmy loved his uncle James. He even had a secret name for him. One that he would never tell a living soul. Not even his uncle. But in the dead of night, when he was working on a new drawing to show, he'd whisper: “This is for you, Jim. This is for you, Papa.”


	26. Chapter 26

Ten years. Ten years of hard work and biting his tongue so he wouldn't get himself in trouble. Ten years of fighting his way up through the ranks. Ten years of achivement and feeling like he belonged. And now it was just over.  
Sebastian sighed and got to his feet as the train pulled into Waterloo Station. He had his bag over his shoulder and was waiting by the door as it opened, and he did not look at any of the people on the platform as he got off. No one would be waiting for him. He had no one. His mother had remarried many years ago, but he had never really gotten back in touch with her. Only the occasional post card to let her know he was alive and doing well. There was just too much pain down that path for him to face it. And he worried that she knew the truth about what had happened back then.  
So he was all alone in the world. Even his friends from the army would probably not want to know him anymore. Not after the … unfortunate … circumstances of his discharge. He had kept his temper in check all those years, but in the end it had only taken one little thing to break him. A young Iraqi man whose brown eyes seemed a bit too familiar had opened up some of the parts of his past that he usually kept hidden even from himself.  
The boy had not been reluctant. In fact he had found the whole thing to be a great adventure and had, in the end, snuck into the base to wait for Sebastian in his tent. They had been discovered and the whole thing could have ended right there. But then, somehow, the young man's father had found out and he had, to put it mildly, not been pleased.  
So Sebastian had been ambushed by four enraged local men intent on some severe and painful punishment. None of them had walked away from the attack. Except Sebastian. And now, here he was, dishonerably discharged, penniless and all alone, but back in London.

He was heading for the exit when he heard a voice behind him. ”Moran? Colonel Moran?”  
Sebastian turned around, but his frown turned to an incredulous stare when he saw the man who was approaching.   
He was tall. Within an inch of Sebastian's height. And just as broad across the shoulders. And the similarities didn't stop there. Their hair and eyes were almost exactly the same colour and there was also something eerily familiar about the other man's slightly crooked smile. His hair style was different though. It seemed a bit out of date. Almost like Sebastian's own hair had been, when he was in his early twenties.  
He was dressed casually, but smart, in tight black jeans and a dark poloneck, that bore marks at the sides and shoulders, that made Sebastian vaguely nervous, but he took the offered hand and shook it firmly.  
”Yes,” he said. ”That's me.” He said, then smiled and added: ”And who the hell are you?”  
”Larson,” the man said, matching Sebastian's grip, barely stopping short of crushing his fingers. ”I have been sent to offer you a job.”  
Sebastian's jaw dropped. ”A... A job?” he stammered. He had no idea what the hell was going on and was far from sure he liked it. ”How do you even know who I am?”  
The man let go of his hand. ”How about we discuss this somewhere else?” he said and pointed towards the exit. ”Can I buy you a pint?”  
Sebastian nodded and they went in search of a pub.  
Once they were seated, in a corner, so they were less likely to be disturbed by the few other patrons, Sebastian asked again.  
“Moriarty,” Larson said, making Sebastian almost spit out a mouthful of beer.  
“Ex... Excuse me...” he spluttered. “What did you say?”  
“Moriarty,” Larson repeated. “Jemima Moriarty. You worked with her a bit, right? Back before you left?”  
Sebastian nodded, trying to calm himself as he started feeling a little light headed, his pulse racing.  
“How... How is she?” he asked.  
“Oh, she retired a long time ago,” Larson said, sipping his own beer. “But she did tell the boss about you back then, and when he heard that you were back in the country, he asked me to fetch you.”  
“Fetch me?” Sebstian felt exceptionally stupid. He knew very little about Jemima's boss except that he had been the head of something vast and very very criminal. He was not at all certain that he would want to get involved with something like that. But he was also kind of curious. And even though Jemima had retired, someone might know what had happened to her. And to Jim.  
So he nodded a little. “I see,” he said, trying to sound calm. “Well, I suppose I will meet with your boss since he's gone to all the trouble of sending you.”  
Larson laughed. “Oh, you won't be meeting him. He does not have time for things like that. If you accept the job, you will be getting your orders from me.”  
“Oh...” Sebastian hesitated. This was not going to be easy. But it was the only plan he could think of, so he nodded. “I'm staying in a hotel for now,” he said, “but I suppose you can have my number.”

…

Larson was not happy. The moment he had seen Moran, he had known. This was Jim's Tiger. This was the man he was thinking of when they were together, the one he cried about in his sleep. And he had the nerve to send Larson to recruite him. What was he playing at? Was he trying to hurt him? To make him jealous?  
Or did he simply not realise that the past seven years had meant more to Larson than regular sex and a warm body to hold at night. They had never talked about it. Not a single word. But as time passed and they grew more comfortable with each other, Larson had come to think of it as almost a relationship. He may still address his lover as Boss, but in his mind, Moriarty had become Jim. His touches and kisses had become more important than the job or the sex. Larson had, though he would never have admitted it openly, fallen in love.  
And now Moran was back. He had actually thought that the man Jim still loved and pined for was dead. That he would always be present in their lives, but only as a ghost that could never get between them. But here he was, large as life. Slightly younger than Larson, and definitely better looking. He doubted very much that the jagged scar across the man's cheek would put Jim off for a moment and he wondered how long it would be, before the ex-colonel would take his place by Jim's side. In Jim's bed.  
Only one thing kept him from desparing. Jim had not asked him to bring Moran in. He had in fact made it very clear that Moran was not to know that he was the boss. Or that Larson had ever met him. Hence the story about Jemima having recommended Moran back before she … 'retired'.  
Maybe Jim did not want to get back together with Moran. Maybe something had happened between them that would rule out this possibility. Maybe he just wanted Larson to keep an eye on Moran.  
Hiring him would definitely make that easier.  
But the moment Larson stepped into their flat, he had to give up this last shred of hope. Jim had obviously been pacing the living room and the moment he saw him he rushed over and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him into the room.  
“How was he?” he asked eagerly. “How did he look? What did he say?” he rambled as he pulled Larson down on the sofa.

…

“You're not a bad shot,” Larson said, grudgingly.  
Sebastian couldn't help but grin. He knew his new … colleague … had some kind of grudge against him. But the man was actually a pleasure to work with. Efficient and smart, he'd quickly taught Sebastian the business.   
Most of their work was picking people off from a distance, but on a few occasions over the last six months, they had had to get up close and personal, either if they were intercepted or to intimidate those who had not merited a hit, but still needed to be taught their place. Sebastian prefered these jobs. The rush of close combat gave him a kind of release that sniping just didn't provide. But there was no denying he was good at the latter. For the last three jobs Larson had let him take the shot. And he had made clean kills each time.  
“So,” he said, grinning. “Do you think I might be ready to work on my own soon?” He didn't mind working with Larson, but he was a bit tired of being babysat by the man. As long as he was his only contact, Sebastian had no chance of meeting anyone who could tell him what had become of Jemima. And Jim.  
Larson shrugged. “That is up to the boss,” he said, his tone getting cold as it always did when the subject turned to their elusive boss.  
“Does that mean I'll get to meet him?” Sebastian asked. “To get a promotion?”  
“No,” Larson said immediately. “You will not meet the boss. Stop asking.”  
Okay... it was a sore subject with Larson. Sebastian knew that. He really should stop prodding the man about it. But the more defensive Larson seemed, the more curious Sebastian became. He had worked for the man for half a year damn it. Was a name too much to ask?  
But he didn't say any of this. He just packed up his rifle and got to his feet. “So, what now?” he asked. “A pint to celebrate?”  
Larson nodded. “Sure,” he said. Going out and getting drunk had become kind of a tradition for them once a job was finished. In spite of Larson's odd resentment, he had become the closest thing to a friend Sebastian had.

…

Around two, they ended up in Moran's flat, sharing half a bottle of whisky and lewd jokes.   
An hour later, Larson came back from the loo and found Moran asleep. He stood above the man, studying him. It would be so easy. He could strangle him. Shoot him. Get out his knife and cut his throat open before he'd even know what was happening. Then he could get rid of the body and tell Jim that Moran had died during the job. That he had been captured or shot or … anything.   
Then maybe Jim would finally stop obsessing about this jerk. Maybe he'd finally start appreciating what he had.

…

When Sebastian woke up on the sofa it was almost noon and he had a terrible headache. It wasn't until he returned after a bath with a cup of coffee in his hand that he noticed the slip left on the table. It was just an address. And a time. Sebastian checked his watch. It was in less than an hour and the address was half way across town. Skipping breakfast, he was dressed and out the door ten minutes later.

…

At fist Emma thought that the tall man exiting the lift was Larson. But then, as she pushed up her glasses, she realised that he was younger but also looked more … worn. But, even with the scar that mared his face, there was no denying that this man was hot.  
“Er... Uhm... How can I help you?” she stammered.  
“I...” he grinned sheepishly, apparently as nervous as her. “I think I'm here to see the boss.”  
She smiled and stood up. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. If you could just wait a moment?” She gestured to the sofa by the opposite wall and then went around the desk to go knock on the door to the main office.   
Jim was sitting behind his desk, as always busy at his computer.   
“Sir?” she said. “There's someone here to see you.”  
Jim looked up and then checked the clock on the wall. “Larson's supposed to check in now. Isn't he here?”  
“No...” she said, a little hesitantly. “But this bloke sort of looks like him.”  
It took a moment then, Jim gasped and stared at her. “What?” he asked, his voice suddenly sounding … small.  
“He... The man ... sort of looks like Larson. Same bodytype and haircolour,” she said, blushing slightly. “I... I thought it was him before I'd had a proper look.”  
After a very long pause Jim gave a tiny nod. “Show him in,” he said, his voice now barely more than a whisper.


	27. Chapter 27

Sebastian did not believe his own eyes. He just stood there, staring.

It just couldn't be. He must be dreaming. Or imagining it. Maybe his boss just looked sort of like... His eyes were playing tricks on him. It couldn't be. No way...

He did not know how long he stood there, mouth slightly open, his thoughts going round and round in circles. Then the man spoke and it was as if the world began moving again.

”Hello, Tiger.” Jim was smiling. Not a genuine smile. One of those smiles that usually meant he had fucked up royally and was hoping Sebastian wouldn't find out. One of those smiles that led to shouting and sometimes crying. And always ended the same way.

Well, Sebastian had had enough shouting over the last ten years. And he'd done more than enough crying before then. So, he decided to drop the preliminaries and just get on with it.

Shrugging off his battered leather jacket as he crossed the floor with long determined strides, he hissed: ”You little shit.”

The change in Jim was immediate. His eyes widened with that glorious mix of fear and want, as he jumped to his feet, backing away while still keeping the desk between him. That was not going to help him this time. Sebastian was not the same goofy kid that he had once known. He was a soldier. And he was good at it.

Without losing speed or breaking eye contact, he leapt onto the desk and then jumped down, landing right in front of Jim, who let out a startled yelp and tried to evade him so he could run for the door. But it was no use. Sebastian grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

Sebastian pulled him close. So close that their lips were almost touching. ”You fucking bastard,” he spat, and Jim whimpered. Then Sebastian thrust him away, pushing him up against the wall so hard that the back of Jim's head hit it with a large crack and his eyes seemed to go out of focus for a moment.

Sebastian didn't even have time to worry whether he'd hurt Jim, then the little fucker was laughing. ”Wa … Watch the suit...” he gasped.

Sebastian snapped. He whirled around, dragging Jim with him and then pushed him towards the desk. Jim stumbled and then cried out as his hip hit the side of the desk. He doubled over in pain, but Sebastian grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up. Then with a slap that made his own hand sting, he hit Jim's cheek so hard it spun the smaller man around and send him flying half way over the desk.

Sebastian had him right where he wanted him now and grabbed the back of Jim's neck, holding him down, pressing his cheek down against the polished wood. Jim huffed and struggled, but Sebastian just laughed. He was a lot stronger than he had been back then, while Jim had apparently let himself go. There was no way he would be able to get away.

Not that he wanted to, judging by the flush of his cheek and the arching of his back.

Sebastian laughed as he reached around to pull out the large knife he had stuck down the back of his jeans before leaving home that morning.

When Jim spotted the knife, he froze for a moment, then tried to kick Sebastian's knee. He evaded him easily and pushed down on his neck harder. ”None of that, kitten,” he purred. ”We don't want you to get hurt, do we? At least not too much.”

Jim snarled but did not answer. And he did not move as Sebastian reached out to take his wrists and gather them behind his back, so he could hold them with one hand.

Then he carefully worked the tip of the knife into the fabric of Jim's trousers, just above his tailbone and began working it down slowly.

”Hey,” Jim cried, but Sebastian pulled up on his hands and any other protests died in a pained yelp.

”Don't fret, kitten,” Sebastian said, grinning. ”I'm sure you can afford new ones.”

Once he had sliced down as far as he could reach, he got to work on Jim's pants, moving even more carefully now. As the fabric fell away, revealing the crack of Jim's arse, he gasped and had to pause a moment to compose himself. There it was... The tight little hole that had once been his. His alone.

He put down the knife on the table so that it was within easy reach. Then he leaned down, putting more weight on Jim's arms and back as he put his hand on his arse and let the tip of his middle finger circle his hole, teasing him.

”How many?” he whispered in Jim's ear. ”How many have you had while I was gone, you little slut? How many men have fucked you?”

Jim gasped. ”None...” he whispered. ”There has never been anyone but you.”

Sebastian laughed again and then removed his hand so he could open his own jeans.

”Are you telling me, kitten,” he purred in Jim's ear, ”that you have not had a cock in ten years? That your little hole has not been stretched in all that time?”

Jim shook his head. ”Not once...” he muttered.

Sebastian hesitated a moment. This changed things. The thought of him still being the only one to fuck Jim was almost making him dizzy. Jim was still his. But it also meant that he could not be as rough with him as he had planned. He could hurt him. Damage him.

So instead of just taking him, he went back to teasing his hole with his finger, gradually loosening the muscle.

”No...” Jim whined, sensing his intention. ”I don't need that. Just do it.” He tried pushing back against Sebastian's finger.

”I'll be the judge of that,” Sebastian said, tightening his grip on Jim's wrists, making him groan. ”You're tight as fuck, you know. This will be like taking your virginity all over again. You didn't let me do it right the first time, you know. Who'd have thought I'd get a second chance.” He lifted his hand up to suck on his finger and then began pushing it into Jim slowly. As the tip slipped inside, Jim sighed and relaxed completely.

Sebastian smiled and let go of Jim's wrist, as he leaned in to kiss his neck, just behind his ear, making Jim whimper and tremble. He continued kissing him as he slowly worked his finger further in and then began thrusting it slowly.

Jim practically melted beneath him, spreading his legs wider and rolling his hips to meet the thrusts.

When Sebastian felt Jim was ready, he added a second finger and then sought out Jim's prostate.

Only when he felt Jim was on the verge of orgasm did he stop. He pulled out his fingers slowly and then took Jim's arm to pull him upright and turn him around.

As Jim looked up at him, his eyes clouded with lust and something else, he looked so much like the sixteen year old boy that had seduced him so long ago. Sebastian stroked his cheek gently and then leaned down to kiss him.

Their lips never lost contact as they undressed each other. When Sebastian was only wearing his t-shirt, he broke the kiss and bent down to lift Jim up into his arms. He lay him gently on the desk, pulled off his own shirt and was about to crawl onto the desk, when Jim reached out a hand to him.

”Let me suck it,” he said softly, smiling up at Sebastian. ”Get it wet.”

Sebastian nodded and moved to stand by Jim's head so that he could lean over and take his cock into his mouth. Sebastian closed his eyes and moaned as he realised that Jim's lips on his cock felt different than anyone he had been with over the years. They felt so much better.

Jim sucked eagerly and Sebastian soon had to stop him. ”You're too good at this, kitten,” he said, leaning down to kiss Jim. Then he got up on the desk and settled between his legs.

”This,” he said, as he lined up his cock with Jim's hole, ”is how your first time should have been.” Covering Jim's lips with his own he began pushing into him slowly, moaning as he felt Jim relaxing and taking him in easily. Once he was completely buried inside him, he raised himself up so he could look down at Jim.

”I love you, you stupid little fuck,” he said and then began rolling his hips slowly.

”I love you too, you big brainless brute,” Jim said, wrapping his legs around Sebastian and then reaching up to pull him down for another kiss.

 

…

 

Emma had desperately tried to ignore the sounds coming from her boss's office. She had really wanted to bolt, but figured that someone had to make sure the two men were not disturbed. So she had dutifully stayed by her desk, turning away all calls or requests from the front desk downstairs. Four clients had wanted to see Moriarty during the hour the blond man had been in there. And two of his snipers had come by to report. But she had rescheduled them all.

It had been quiet in there for almost ten minutes when the intercom buzzed, making her jump and cry out.

”Y... Yes...?” she stammered as she pushed the button.

”I have a little job for you,” her boss said, sounding very cheerful. ”A bit different from your usual tasks, but I'm sure you can manage.”

”Yes, of course, boss,” she said. ”What can I do for you?”

Moriarty made a small sound, almost like a giggle. ”I'm going to need you to pop out and do some shopping for me. Can you do that?”

”Of course, Sir,” she said, reaching for her handbag. ”What do you need?”

”A pair of jeans,” he said. ”And some pants.”

 

…

 

Sebastian had lost track of time completely as they lay there on Jim's desk, legs tangled together, kissing and touching, getting to know each others' bodies after all that time. He had gotten a second wind and Jim had been about to give him a proper blowjob when there was a soft knock on the door.

”One moment,” Jim called and untangled himself. He picked up Sebastian's t-shirt and pulled it on as he walked to the door. It was long enough to be decent but short enough that the blushing assistant could not doubt that he was not wearing any pants.

Sebastian laughed as he watched the woman trying to hand the shopping bag to Jim without looking at him. That had been a mistake. As she looked over Jim's shoulder, her eyes fell on Sebastian who was lying on his side on Jim's desk, still completely naked and fully erect.

She cried out and actually covered her eyes before turning around and fleeing.

Jim closed the door and took the jeans out of the bag as he walked over. ”She got my size right,” he said. ”Good girl.” Then he let his new clothes drop to the floor and leaned down to kiss Sebastian. ”On your back, Tiger,” he said, grinning smugly as he climbed back onto the desk, turning so that he could lean down and take Sebastian's cock in his mouth, presenting him with a gorgeous view of his arse.

Sebastian chuckled and raised his hand, pushing two fingers into Jim and thrusting lazily as he sucked him.

 

…

 

Three hours later, when they'd finally made it back to the penthouse, Jim got the rough fuck he wanted, screaming and clawing at the edge of the dining table he had been bent over. Only in the morning when they woke up, sore and happy on the living room floor, did either of them realise that a letter of resignation, signed by Larson, had been stuck to the doorframe by the bedroom, with a knife that had been jammed so hard into the wood that even Sebastian had trouble pulling it out.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

”But Uncle James...” Timothy whined. ”I don't wanna go.”  
”Nonsense, Timmy,” his uncle said. ”It's one of the best schools in the country and there'll be lots of boys your own age. You'll be happy there.”  
”But I want to stay with Ma,” he protested. ”Why can't I just go to school here?”  
Uncle James sighed. ”Because Ma is ill,” he said. ”She needs rest and peace and she cannot have that with you and your buddies running around the house all the time.”  
Timothy bit his lip and looked down. ”I'm sorry,” he said. ”I'll be good, I promise. I won't bring friends over anymore.”  
Uncle James took Timothy's chin in his hand and raised his head gently so he could look into his eyes. ”No, Timothy. You should have friends over. You should have fun. That is why you're going to that school, where there'll be many new friends and you can hang out with them all you want. As long as you don't break the rules too much.”  
He winked and Timothy, in spite of himself, giggled.  
Uncle James always did that. Made him feel like a little kid. But in a good way. Not like when Ma was hugging or kissing him in public or, even worse, trying to straighten his hair. That was just horribly embarrassing.  
But with Uncle James, he could be a kid. Be silly and giggly, show off and be praised. And it was all good. It was all he'd ever wanted.  
And he knew Uncle James was right. He'd seen the change in Ma over the last six months. She wasn't just ill. She was dying. She couldn't take care of him anymore.  
But he didn't want to go to boarding school. And desperation made him say the unthinkable: ”I... I could go live with you...” he whispered. ”Until she's better?”  
Something changed in Uncle James' eyes. Almost like he was going to cry. ”No, Timothy,” he said softly. ”You can't. You know that my work has me travelling all the time. And you can't live in my flat alone. You are too young. Maybe when you're older. When you've finished school.”  
Timothy gasped. ”Really? Do you mean that?”  
Uncle James smiled and nodded. ”When you go to uni,” he said. ”You could take care of the flat for me when I'm gone.”  
Timothy couldn't believe his own ears. True, it was many years away, but still... He had never thought it would be possible, but Uncle James was actually offering it. ”Yes,” he said, and then hugged him. ”Yes, I'd love to. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  
He suddenly realised he had not hugged his uncle for many years and, blushing, was about to pull away, when he suddenly felt the man's arms around him. They sat like that for a long time before going down to Ma, who was waiting with the tea.

…

”Sir?” Emma looked up, frowning slightly as her boss came stomping out of his office. ”Can I help you with anything?”  
Moriarty shook his head and, recognising the look in his eyes, Emma kept her mouth shut as he walked over to the lift. When he was in one of those moods, it was best to leave him alone.  
Once he was gone, she got up and went into his office. As expected, the place was a mess. Papers were strewn across it, most of them ripped or crumbled up. His chair had fallen over and his laptop was on the floor, the cracked screen blinking feebly.  
She called down to IT and requested another recovery and then began straightening up the mess. In twenty minutes the office was back to normal, including a new laptop, indistinguishable from the old one. Except for the unbroken screen.  
When she was about to leave, she noticed a newspaper on the floor by the window. She picked it up and scanned the headlines. Some politics, sports, a celebrity wedding. Nothing that could have upset her boss.  
A picture was missing. It had been torn out along with half the accompanying article. It wasn't anything big as far as she could tell. Just a small piece on some government official who had attended some kind of event along with his family.  
Emma frowned as she walked back to her desk. Maybe she should make a point out of following that man in the future. Whatever issue Moriarty had with Mycroft Holmes, it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on him.

…

”No way, Jim,” Sebastian huffed from under the towel he was using to dry his hair. ”That guy's a creep. A disgusting little worm.”  
”I don't give a fuck,” Jim said, glaring at him as he stepped out of the shower. ”You're meeting with him again. Tomorrow.”  
Sebastian groaned and then, tossing the towel to the floor, strode out of the bathroom.  
A moment later he felt a stinging pain on his arse, accompanied by a loud, wet snap. He spun around, just in time to see Jim flicking the towel again and barely managed to jump out of the way before it hit him in the crotch.  
”You little shit,” he roared, taking a step towards Jim. But the shorter man did not back down, for once, though Sebastian was towering over him.  
”Pick up your own goddamn mess,” Jim snarled and tossed the towel at Sebastian's head.  
For a moment it covered his eyes and before he could see again, he felt Jim's hands on his shoulder and then his leg behind his knees.  
And then Sebastian hit the floor with a pained gasp, as all the air was knocked out of him. He had no time to recover, as he was rolled over and felt his arms being pulled behind his back.  
This was no problem though. Jim had never been strong enough to hold him. Sebastian had just caught his breath and was about to pull away when he felt something cold around his wrists and heard a metallic click.  
”Hand cuffs?” he cried. ”You have got to be kidding me...”  
Jim giggled as he sat down on Sebastian's back. ”Nope,” he said. ”I've been waiting for an excuse to use these for ages. And now that you need to be taught not one, but two lessons, it seemed like the perfect time.”  
Sebastian squirmed and struggled, but there was no getting out of it. He rested his forehead on the floor, cursing. ”Please tell me you have a key for those,” he muttered.  
”Maybe I do,” Jim said in that annoying sing song voice he'd started using. ”And maybe I don't.”  
Then he got up and walked away.  
”Oi,” Sebastian called after him. ”Are you just going to leave me here?”  
Jim didn't answer as he walked to the bedroom. Sebastian turned his head so he could see him. That cute little arse, still wet from the shower. He groaned, knowing that he was not getting any of that today. Jim obviously had other plans.  
Soon he was walking back with his hands behind his back and an evil grin on his face.  
”Jim, just stop it,” Sebastian said, knowing it was no use. ”Uncuff me and we can have a quick shag. You have a meeting in half an hour and I should be checking in on the guys down at the wharf.”  
Jim giggled and shook his head before moving behind Sebastian and putting down whatever he had brought, just where he couldn't see it.  
He straddled his back again and then suddenly grabbed a handful of Sebastian's hair and yanking his head back.  
Sebastian cried out, but then suddenly his mouth was filled with something round and smooth. A ballgag? A fucking ballgag? Since when had Jim even owned stuff like this?  
He huffed and grunted but Jim only laughed as he secured the gag behind his head. ”Remember that meeting I went out for last week?” he asked. ”It was with this delightful fellow down in Soho, who had a very interesting little shop. He let me bring home some samples. I thought we could try them out together.”  
He shifted his weight to reach for something, and Sebastian used the opportunity to try to shake him off. But he failed and a moment later his head was being forced down against the floor so hard he feared his nose might break. But then Jim let go and got up.  
”I was going to make this fair,” he said. ”Letting you decide which things you wanted to try. But after your little show of disobedience, I have decided this shouldn't be about what you like. Quite the opposite. So I really hope you won't enjoy this.”  
Sebastian cursed inwardly and tried to steel himself for what was to come. The swishing sound gave him only a fraction of a second's warning before something thin and hard landed on his arse with a pain far beyond the sting of the towel. Sebastian jumped and tried to roll away, but Jim put a foot on his back and swung the damn thing again. And again.  
Sebastian lost count of how many times he was whipped, but his skin was burning and tears of anger and humiliation streaming down his cheeks when Jim finally stopped.  
There was a pause and then Jim knelt beside him and ran a gentle, cool hand over Sebastian's arse. It stung, but also made his skin tingle in a not completely unpleasant way.  
Jim cooed. ”Such pretty colours,” he said teasingly. ”You're practically glowing.”  
Sebastian was pretty sure Jim understood the meaning of the muffled words he managed around the gag. The crazy genius giggled and leaned down to kiss what felt like a particularly long welt on one of his cheeks. He kept stroking him gently and then a fingertip slid along the crack of Sebastian's arse, brushing over his hole.  
Sebastian groaned. In spite of the pain and the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation he had found himself growing rather horny while Jim was hitting him. His hard cock was pressed against the floor and, as Jim's touch made it twitch, it became almost painful. He tried rolling his hips, rubbing it against the floor, but it didn't do much good.  
”You horny little bitch,” Jim said teasingly. ”Let's see what we've got for your greedy little hole.” He moved away again and a moment later Sebastian gasped as he felt something impossibly cold against his skin.  
”Oops,” Jim said, using his fingers to guide the spilled lube to where it was needed. Then something large and strangely soft was pushed against Sebastian's hole.  
”It's made of some kind of jelly,” Jim said, pushing the large toy slowly in. ”They're really popular I'm told.”  
This wasn't so bad, and Sebastian relaxed. The toy was wide, but as Jim had fucked him just before they went in the shower, he was already pretty loose. Except, it just kept getting wider. What he had thought was the main part of the plug or whatever it was, had apparently just been the tip. The thing was bloody huge. He had never been stretched this far before and it was getting quite painful. He groaned, trying to let Jim know he'd had enough.  
”Awh...” Jim said, stroking his back. ”Just a bit more, honey. It's almost in.”  
He was lying, of course, and soon Sebastian felt like he was about to be ripped in two. Then finally, it slipped completely in and he felt his abused muscle closing around the much smaller base. Getting it out would be bad, he knew, but he didn't want to think about that now.  
”Good boy,” Jim said, stroking his arse gently. The pain of the plug had taken Sebastian's mind off the result of the whipping, but now he felt it again. He twitched and immediately groaned as the movements made his arse tighten around the cursed plug.  
Jim really had him now. He couldn't move without causing himself massive discomfort. With a final huff he stopped squirming, trying to relax.  
A moment later Jim was kneeling in front of him. He put his hands on Sebastian's shoulders and pushed him back.  
”I want you to get up on your knees,” he said, his voice making it clear that Sebastian would sorely regret not complying.  
So, in spite of the pain, Sebastian pulled himself up until he was resting on his knees and chest, his aching arse sticking up into the air.  
”Beautiful,” Jim commented, but instead of taking advantage of the situation, he changed his grip on Sebastian's shoulders and, with some difficulty pulled him upright until he was kneeling in front of him.  
Jim stood up and looked down at him. ”Now I'm going to need you to behave,” he said. ”Don't make a sound. Not a single word. Do you understand?”  
Sebastian sighed, then nodded and Jim reached behind his head to release the gag. It was such a relief to finally be able to close his mouth again, but it didn't last long. Sebastian was not surprised when Jim took his hard cock in his hand and guided it to Sebastian's lips. Obediently he opened his mouth and sucked it in.  
For a while, Jim just fucked his mouth slowly, almost lazily, and Sebastian did his best to use his tongue and lips to get him off as quickly as possible. But then suddenly Jim stopped moving and took hold of Sebastian's head with both hands.  
”It's your turn,” he said. ”Don't worry, if I can do this, so can you.”  
Sebastian had only a second to realise what Jim meant, then he was pushing in, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of Sebastian's mouth and then, somehow, sliding down into the top of his throat.  
It wasn't painful. Just very, very unpleasant. And then he realised he couldn't breathe. He panicked and pulled back, gasping for air. Jim gave him a moment, then took hold of his head again. ”Deep breath,” he said and then pushed in again. He held him there, until Sebastian thought he'd pass out from lack of oxygen. Then pulled out to let him breathe.  
Next time when he pushed in, he began thrusting gently, and Sebastian found that he could handle it. He remembered when Jim had done this the first time and tried humming. Jim groaned and moved faster. Soon he was fucking his throat hard, just pausing long enough to let him gasp a quick breath once or twice a minute. Sebastian closed his eyes and did his best to relax, humming and swallowing around him.  
Jim pulled out and came over Sebastian's face. Then he turned around and walked to the bedroom.  
Sebastian just stared after him, unable to believe that he would just leave him like this.  
He wouldn't. A moment later, Jim came rushing back, showing him the small key before he knelt beside him and unlocked the handcuffs.  
Sebastian felt Jim's hand on the plug, but before he could start pulling, he pushed him away and then punched him hard on the chin. Jim fell to the floor, whimpering.  
”Don't you fucking touch it,” Sebastian hissed as he took hold of the base of the plug. It seemed to hurt ten times more as he pulled it out than when Jim pushed it in, but he kept going, groaning with the pain.  
He held it up and felt the rage burn inside him as he saw that it was almost as wide as his own fist. He glared down at Jim who stared up at him and then began scrambling away.  
”You bastard,” Sebastian snarled as he tossed the plug to the floor. Then he noticed the rest of the toys that Jim hadn't gotten around to using and a wicked grin spread across his face.  
”Oh Kitten...” he called. ”I don't think we're quite done here, do you?” He picked up the handcuffs and walked slowly towards Jim, who suddenly found he had backed himself into a corner.  
”I'm sorry, Tiger,” he sobbed as Sebastian grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his feet. ”I'm sorry. I was just playing...”  
”Oh, I know,” Sebastian said as he spun him around and pushed him up against the wall. ”It was a lot of fun. But I think we can do even better.” The click of the cuffs closing around Jim's wrists was the best sound Sebastian had heard in a long time.

…

Sebastian managed not to wince as he sat down across from the strange little man.  
”So, Mr Hope,” he said. ”My boss wants me to make you an offer.”


	29. Chapter 29

”What the hell happened?” Jim screamed, tossing his phone across the room. It hit a large mirror and shattered it.  
Sebastian cringed. ”Hope is dead,” he said. ”Shot, just as he had convinced Holmes to take one of those damn pills.”  
Jim groaned and pulled at his hair. ”He what? What the hell has been going on? I told you to keep an eye on things.”  
”I was,” Sebastian protested. ”Until he went to Baker Street. The place was crawling with police, so I had to hang back. And before I knew it, he had Holmes in the cab and was off. By the time I tracked them down, he had already done his little mind game on Holmes.”  
”So you shot him?” Jim asked, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated by the whole thing.  
Sebastian could not meet his eyes. ”No,” he muttered. ”Holmes' date beat me to it. And then ran off before Holmes even knew what had happened.”  
There was a long pause. When Jim spoke again, his voice was dangerously calm: ”His... date?”  
Sebastian nodded. ”Some veteran. An army doctor who got wounded abroad.” He shrugged. ”They've only known each other for a few days, but it already seems pretty hot and heavy.”  
He hadn't yet figured out exactly what Jim's obsession with the detective was about, and he seriously hoped it was not jealousy that made Jim's voice shake as he asked: ”What's his name? This... date?”  
”Watson, I think,” Sebastian answered, finally daring to look at Jim. No, he did not look jealous. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Almost like he was happy about this news. But not the good kind of happy. The kind that meant that someone would very soon be in a lot of pain.

…

Merryl's hands shook as she raised her cup to her lips and she almost choked on the tea. The stranger sitting across from her, at the small table in the crowded café, smiled in a way that made her suspect he was used to having this effect on people. He was very tall and so muscled it looked like his shirt might burst if he shrugged those amazing shoulders of his. His face was scarred but still handsome in that slightly dangerous way. She had to force herself not to stare openly at him.  
But who could blame her? He was just the kind of man she had always been dreaming of. Strong, confident, mysterious. Not a snivelling little wimp like her ex-husband. She cringed, just thinking about him. The man had claimed to be a genius, but she had, sure as hell, never seen anything to support that claim.  
”So...” she said, but then had to clear her throat. ”You... You said you had something for me?” She put her cup down, blushing as it clattered against the saucer.  
The man nodded. ”Yes. Or rather... For your children.”  
It was like something inside her shifted. Instead of seeing a gorgeous man, whom she would happily sleep with, a myriad of red flags popped up in her mind. Her children? What did he want with her children? How did he even know about them? Making a mental note to alert the police that she and her family might have a potential stalker, she raised her eyebrows.  
”Oh?” she said, sounding a lot cooler and, thankfully, more assertive. ”What could you possibly have for them?”  
”A gift,” he said. ”From my boss.”  
This just got more and more odd. ”Your boss?” she asked. ”Who is he?”  
”That is not important,” the man said. ”All you need to know is that the father of your children made a deal with him.”  
She huffed at the mention of Jeff. She hadn't even told her children that the creep was dead. He did not deserve to be mourned by anyone. ”What kind of deal?” she asked.  
The man reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a long thin envelope. ”He did a job for my boss. He wanted his children to receive the payment.”  
She eyed the envelope critically. It couldn't have been a very big job if the money fit in there. ”I can take care of my children just fine,” she said. ”They don't need anything from him.”  
The man chuckled. ”Still, I insist. And so does my boss. And believe me, you don't want to go against his wishes.”  
She swallowed hard and then held out her hand for the envelope. He gave it to her and then, flashing her his most brilliant and terrifying smile, stood up.  
”Have a good day, Mrs Hope,” he said before turning and heading for the door.  
”Miss Williams,” she corrected him and then focused on the envelope. It didn't feel like money. She frowned as she picked up her knife and used it to slide the envelope open.  
Inside were two folded sheets of paper. They were almost identical letters, from NatWest, confirming the opening of two savings accounts in her children's names. When she read the figures at the bottom, she almost screamed.

…

”How long will you be gone?” Sebastian asked, pushing his food around the plate. He had been in a good mood when he got home. He didn't mind the work he usually did for Jim, but today's job had just been so much more pleasant. And then Jim had cooked a really nice dinner for them and he had, honestly, been expecting a nice romantic evening together.  
But halfway through dessert, Jim had made the announcement that he would be leaving for China. Tomorrow.  
”I'm not sure. A couple of weeks,” Jim said. ”A month. Some old clients are having problems with a scheme I set up for them a while back. Seems like one of their employees has developed sticky fingers.”  
”Can't they handle that themselves?” Sebastian asked, with a heavy sigh, already knowing that obviously they couldn't, or Jim wouldn't be going.  
”That's the problem,” Jim said. ”They want to handle it themselves, but in order to do that, they need to get to London. And they can't just waltz in here on a tourist visa.”  
”So what are you going to do?” Sebastian asked. ”Smuggle them home in your suitcase?”  
Jim didn't answer, just giggled and then began whistling. It sort of sounded like... circus music?

…

”Can't I come along then?” Sebastian asked, chuckling as Jim's fingers traced tickling patterns on his chest and stomach. ”Look after you and stuff?”  
Jim sighed and shook his head. ”No, Tiger, I wish you could. But together we'll draw too much attention. We've got quite a reputation by now. Besides, I need you to handle things back here.”  
”What things?” Sebastian asked, dreading the answer.  
”Keeping an eye on Holmes, of course,” Jim said, pinching Sebastian's left nipple. ”I need to know what he is getting up to. He and that boyfriend of his.”  
”Oh... right...” Sebastian said. ”Seems like they're not actually a couple. At least according to the doctor.”  
”You've actually spoken to him?” Jim asked, lifting his head off Sebastian's chest and looking down at him, his eyes darkening a little.  
”Of course not,” Sebastian said quickly and pulled Jim back down. ”I overheard him talking on the phone. To his sister, I think. Seems she too was under the impression that he was banging his flatmate. He got slightly agitated, repeating over and over that he was not gay and Holmes was... not interested in things like that anyway.”  
Jim giggled at this and Sebastian's blood turned to ice. So he had been right. At some point, while he had been away, Jim and that skinny detective had been together. Had been lovers.  
He knew that Jim had not exactly been celibate. Hell, he had been living with Larson when Sebastian started working for him. But... he had not even thought twice about letting him go. Why was he obsessing so much about this man? This eccentric genius... Genius...?  
He gasped, making Jim frown and look up at him. Quickly, before Jim could sense his inner turmoil, he pulled Jim closer and kissed him.  
Surely Jim wouldn't replace him by Holmes, just because Holmes was smarter. Jim had never minded Sebastian being just a regular guy when it came to brains. He had so many other things to offer. Holmes was just a skinny git who happened to have a stunning face and a brain the size of a planet. Surely Jim would rather be with his Tiger.  
Still... it couldn't hurt reminding Jim what he already had. So Sebastian rolled them over, pinning Jim's arms above his head as he turned the kiss deep and passionate, growling as he felt his Kitten growing calm and pliant beneath him.

…

They were attracting a lot of attention at the airport, but Sebastian really couldn't care less. He had his arms wrapped around Jim, kissing him hungrily, unwilling to let him go. Not until the last call for Jim's plane sounded did he tear himself loose. ”Go, Kitten,” he said, stroking his cheek gently. ”And hurry back to me.”  
Jim's eyes seemed a little misty as he looked up at him. Without saying a word, he nodded, turned and hurried off.  
Sebastian stood there for a long time after Jim had disappeared from view. An entire month! A month without his Kitten. Only one sensible way to handle this. As he turned and left the airport, he got out his phone and began scrolling through the numbers of all his female friends. Who, he wondered, would like to spend a couple of days in the penthouse having her brains shagged out?


	30. Chapter 30

Tori stretched and yawned, then gasped as her arm bumped into something warm and large next to her. She turned her head to look and felt a brief moment of panic before remembering the events of the night before.

She'd been out with a couple of her friends, when she'd run into this fella. Tall, rugged and devilishly handsome. She'd gone weak at the knees the moment he smiled at her. He'd bought her a drink and she'd basically thrown herself at him. Her friends had been scandalised, but she didn't care as he escorted her outside to his small but fancy car.

She'd felt on top of the world. Lead character in the date movie of the year. Right until he'd opened the door to the extravagant penthouse and they'd been met by not one but three other girls, all giggling, drunk and half-naked.

But after the initial shock, she had quickly found herself drawn in and it turned out that the big guy was more than capable of handling all four of them. Two of the other girls had drifted off on the sofa, and Tori had ended up in the bed, right between the man... What was his name? Jonathan? No... Sebastian... and the oldest of the other girls, a curvy black woman whose name she didn't know.

She lay for a moment, studying the scarred but muscular back of Sebastian, then felt something move behind her. She turned to see the black woman blinking sleepily, smiling.

”Morning,” she whispered.

”Morning,” Tori answered, blushing as she remembered her clumsy efforts at pleasing this woman last night. She was trying to figure out what to say, when she was suddenly pulled into a lazy lingering kiss. The woman took her hand and guided it down to between her legs, guiding Tori's fingers.

Soon the woman was squirming and moaning while Tori kissed her hungrily, elated by the effect she apparently had on her.

Then suddenly they broke apart, startled by twin cries of shock from the other room. There were sounds of commotion, running feet and then a door slammed.

Sebastian sat up with a groan and a moment later, the door to the bedroom was opened slowly, revealing a short, smartly dressed man, glaring at them.

”I waited at the airport,” he said, his voice calm as ice as he approached the bed. ”You were supposed to pick me up.”

Sebastian sighed. ”Right... Forgot... Sorry...”

”Sorry?” the man said, stopping by the foot of the bed. ”You forgot?”

The black woman tugged on Tori's arm. ”We’d better go,” she whispered.

Desperate to get away, Tori nodded, pulled the sheet around her and followed the other woman out of the room. Luckily their clothes were scattered all over the living room, and they picked them up on the way out. The elevator ride was long enough for them to get dressed and have a very hearty snog.

As the doors opened, the woman took her hand. ”I'm Anne,” she said. ”Let's go find some breakfast.”

 

…

 

Jim was practically screaming with pleasure as Sebastian fucked him. He had him up against the wall, Jim's legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust up as hard and fast as he could. Jim bit into his shoulder and Sebastian came with a roar of mixed pain and pleasure. Then he eased out, carried Jim to the bed and dumped him there before flopping down next to him.

Jim rolled over and kissed him. ”I've missed you,” he purred and then gave Sebastian's bum a hard smack. ”Now go make coffee. We've got a lot to talk about.”

 

…

 

When Jim came to the table, looking absolutely ridiculous in Sebastian's bathrobe, he was carrying a small gift-wrapped box in his hands. ”For you,” he said, beaming as he held it out to Sebastian. ”From the other side of the world.”

Sebastian frowned as he took the box. It was light in his hand and something inside it shifted a little. ”What is it?” he asked, looking up at Jim, who did his best innocent smile and shrugged.

Chuckling, Sebastian carefully unwrapped the box. As he opened it, he snorted. ”What the hell?”

Jim giggled. ”Figured you needed a kitten to keep an eye on you,” he said. ”When I am not around.”

Sebastian took the golden plastic figure out of the box and then gasped as it promptly began waving at him. He cleared his throat. ”It... It's lovely...” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

”It's supposed to bring good fortune,” Jim said, still smiling at him. ”And protection from harm.”

Sebastian nodded solemnly. ”Suppose I could always use that,” he said. Then he caught the glint in Jim's eyes and laughed. ”You little shit,” he said, putting the waving cat down on the table and leaning over to kiss his giggling boyfriend.

 

…

 

”Did you really forget you were supposed to pick me up?” Jim asked as he dried the dishes.

”Nope,” Sebastian admitted, putting the last plate on the draining board. ”But I did not trust myself to behave when I saw you. Even in a public space like an airport.”

”So you figured you'd shag your way through half the female population of London instead?” Jim asked, raising an eyebrow.

”Just the pretty part,” Sebastian said, grinning at him.

Jim stuck out his tongue and then turned to put away the plate. Sebastian seized the opportunity, stepped up behind Jim and wrapped his arms around him. ”I really did miss you horribly,” he whispered, nuzzling the top of Jim's head.

Jim leaned back against him, humming happily. ”I missed you too, Tiger,” he purred. ”But I had to do this. Making contacts in the Far East will take business to a whole new level.”

”Does that mean you will be travelling more in the future?” Sebastian asked, pouting a little.

”I hope not,” Jim said. ”Once the contacts are established, they'll be coming to me. Just you wait and see. I'm building us a proper little empire here.”

”With you as emperor?” Sebastian teased. ”Maybe I should start calling you Napoleon. You got the proper height for it.”

Jim snorted and tried to elbow him in the ribs. ”Shut up, you big brute,” he giggled. ”I mean it. I want the business to be well-established. Secure. So that it can basically run itself when I'm... busy...”

Something in his tone made Sebastian tense. That pause. What was Jim not telling him?

”You'd hate that, darling,” Sebastian said. ”Not having your hands in everything. You'd get bored in no time.”

Jim shrugged. ”Maybe,” he said. ”I guess I've just reached a point in life where I want some security. Some certainty.”

”Christ, Jim,” Sebastian said, laughing nervously. ”You're not that old.”

Jim did not answer but turned in his arms and then stood up on his toes to give Sebastian a soft, lingering kiss.

 

…

 

”No,” Shan said, glaring up at the tall Englishman. ”We have heard nothing of the location of the pin yet. Your boss does not get his money until the pin is recovered. That was the deal.”

”Deals change,” Moran said. ”Moriarty is not interested in your money.”

Shan raised a thin painted eyebrow. ”Oh?” she said. Moriarty's price had been high. Worth getting back the pin, of course, but still... If she could get out of paying it, that would definitely be worth hearing this oaf out.

”You had a visitor last night,” Moran said. ”A detective and his friends.”

”Yes,” Shan said, forcing herself to smile. Those men and their woman had caused such a commotion that she and her men had been forced to move out of their comfortable dwellings and take refuge here, in the tunnels below the city.

”Moriarty wants him,” Moran said. ”And so do you. He has the jade pin.”

”He has it?” she snapped. ”You know this?”

Moran nodded. ”Bring him in. But do not hurt him. You can use his friends to make him give you what you want, but Holmes himself must not be harmed. Once he has watched his friends die, you must hand him over to my boss.”

”But what if he does not speak?” she asked. ”If he lets his friends die but does not give us the pin?”

”Then it is lost to you,” Moran said, flatly. ”You do not harm Holmes. No matter what.”

Thinking that she would do what was necessary, no matter what the small Irishman said, Shan nevertheless bowed her head in agreement. ”We will deliver the detective to you,” she said. ”Once we have what is ours.”

 

…

 

Once again, things had gone wrong. The idiotic 'Tong' people had somehow gotten the idea that the tiny doctor was Holmes and had let the real detective sneak up on them while they were torturing him and his girlfriend. It had, of course, ended in complete chaos and the detective had not only walked free, but found the fucking pin and handed it in.

The only one who had gotten away was that woman-general. It had taken less than a day to find out where she was hiding, and now Sebastian was watching her through the window, waiting for the signal from Jim. The woman was on her computer, probably communicating with Jim. Much good that was going to do her. As soon as Jim knew if there were others who knew about him, it would be over.

Sebastian was considering if he could get away with lighting a cigarette when his phone buzzed.

 

…

 

They were sitting on balcony together, looking out over London. Sebastian had his back against the wall, Jim was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim and nuzzled his neck.

”Are you okay, Kitten?” he whispered. Jim had been very upset about the whole Black Lotus chaos, but seemed to have calmed down.

Jim nodded. ”I've been going about this all wrong,” he said. ”Trying to get at Holmes through petty criminals.”

Sebastian frowned. ”So you're going after him yourself?” he asked.

”No,” Jim said, shaking his head. ”I am going to make him come to me.”


	31. Chapter 31

Molly was lost in thought as she stood in line at the hospital cafeteria, waiting to pay for her lunch. Suddenly  someone bumped into her elbow and she almost dropped her tray. She turned to see a dark - haired man she had never seen before,  who was  struggling to save the cup of coffee that was wobbling on his own tray. Once it was steady , he looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. 

"Sorry," he said. ”I'm not usually this clumsy.” Then he giggled and shrugged. ”Well... actually... I am...”

His giggle was  infectious , and Molly could not help but return his smile. ”It's quite alright,” she said, checking the contents of her own tray. A few splashes of spaghetti sauce on the napkin, but no real spills and nothing on her clothes. ”No harm done, see.” She held up the tray to show him and then blushed. What a silly thing to do. She held her breath, waiting for him to make some kind of joke about it that would make her want to hide away and never show her face again.

But instead, his smile widened. ”Good,” he said. ”I'd never forgive myself if I'd made you lose your lunch.” He stopped, gasped and blushed furiously. ”I mean... drop your lunch...”

Molly couldn't help herself. She laughed out loud. For a moment it looked like the man might die from  embarrassment or possibly bolt. Then he laughed too. ”I'm Jim,” he said. ”From IT.”

”Nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, trying to balance her tray against the counter so she could hold it with one hand. She almost dropped it again and gave up. ”I'm Molly. Hooper. I work down in the morgue.”

”Oh, I know who you are,” Jim blurted. ”You're a bloody genius at what you do.”

Now it was Molly's turn to blush. ”No , I'm not,” she muttered, looking down at her pasta. ”I just... have help sometimes.”

Jim looked curious , but didn't pursue the subject.

The line moved and they both paid for their food in silence. Molly looked for a free table, then noticed that Jim was still by her side.

”Mind if I join you?” he asked. ”I... I hate eating alone.”

”Me too,” she said. ”Though I usually have to... I mean...” She stopped and bit her tongue. No wonder she was always on her own. She just couldn't open her mouth without putting her foot in it, it seemed.

But Jim did not comment . I nstead he nodded his head in the direction of a table that had just cleared , over by the windows.

”Is it okay if we sit there?” he asked. ”I... I prefer the natural light.”

Once they were settled , he leaned closer and whispered : ”I usually read while I eat. Feels less lonely.”

”Oh my god,” Molly said, a little too loudly. She quickly lowered her voice. ”Me too.”

Jim grinned. ”No kidding? What are you reading?”

Molly reached into her pocket and brought out a small book. ” _Luka and the fire of life_ ,” she said. ”I know it's a children's book , but...” She looked down, blushing.

As Jim reached for the book, his fingers brushed against hers. And not just a casual touch. It seemed deliberate. She barely kept from shivering.

”Is that the sequel to _Haroun and the Sea of Stories_?” he asked, turning the book over in his hand. ”I've been meaning to read this, but never seem to have the time.”

”You know _Haroun_?” Molly asked, surprised. He was the first person she had met who'd even heard of that book.

Jim nodded. ”Must have read it at least ten times,” he said. ”Bought it for my nephew when it came out, but the poor bugger never got it. I began reading it on the bus home and just couldn't put it down.” He giggled. ”Had to go find him another present, or my sister would have killed me.”

Molly giggled too. ”I didn't discover it until last year,” she admitted. ”Just sitting on a shelf at the library. I'd read a lot of his other stuff, so I figured I'd give it a go. And then I was just... smitten...”

Jim looked up at her and as their eyes locked, Molly had the feeling, for the first time in her adult life, of being completely understood.

She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting there, just looking at each other, when her phone rang. She gasped and fumbled to get it out of her pocket. It was Lestrade, the friendly DI from the Yard.

…

Nine hours later Molly, exhausted and with a headache coming on, finally left St. Barts. She ran to the bus stop, only to see the back end of her bus disappearing around the corner. Too tired to even get annoyed, she slumped down on the nearest bench, reaching into her bag for her phone. It wasn't there...

She looked up at the hospital. There was no way she could face going back to the morgue for it. But she had to. She needed her phone , she...

It began to rain.

And that was, literally, the last drop. Molly hid her face in her hands, trying to stifle her sobbing.

Then suddenly the rain stopped. Or rather, it no longer hit her, and its sound changed as if it was hitting an...

She looked up and saw a smiling Jim , holding a large black umbrella over her.

Quickly she wiped away her tears and attempted a smile of her own. She failed miserably.

”Thanks,” she muttered, looking away.

”Don't mention it,” Jim said, sitting down next to her, while making sure she was still under the umbrella.

They sat in silence for a while.

”Long day?” Jim asked.

Molly sighed and nodded.

”Lots of dead people?”

”Yes... And one very alive one. Which was worse than all the others.”

Jim giggled softly. ”That bad?” he asked. ”Who was it? One of the doctors?”

”No,” Molly hesitated. She usually never spoke about him. She was certain that if she did, people would know immediately. Know and laugh at her. But Jim was different. Maybe she could tell him. Or at least talk about it... A bit...

”He's a detective,” she said. ”Sort of. He does some freelance work for the police and also takes on private cases. He sometimes comes here to look at bodies. Or to borrow the lab or... body parts...”

Jim made a small sound, half-way between a snort and a gasp. But he didn't speak, so she went on.

”He uses them for experiments. I think. To prove things or just to gain knowledge for future work. Or because he's bored. I think.” She sighed again. She must sound so dumb, going on and on about the guy like this.

”So he came in today?” Jim asked. ”Gave you a hard time?”

”Not really a hard time,” she said. ”It's just... the way he is. He can be quite trying a times. He doesn't mean any harm. He just doesn't think.”

Jim was silent for so long that she finally overcame her  embarrassment and looked over at him. He was frowning. Seemed to be completely lost in thought.

”Hey...” she said. ”Are you okay?”

Jim blinked twice and then looked at her and smiled. ”Of course I am,” he said, then added: ”Fancy a pint? I know this gorgeous place... It's a bit of a walk though... Across the bridge, but it's really nice.”

His eagerness made her giggle and she nodded. ”I'd love to,” she said.

…

They had walked arm in arm under the umbrella, talking and laughing like they had known each other for ages. Being around Jim was so easy. It was like she couldn't say or do anything wrong. Exactly the opposite from Sherlock, she realised. When  _he_ walked into the room , she became one giant walking clumsy accident.

But with Jim she felt smart and funny. And pretty. The way he looked at her. Like he was slightly surprised but very pleased about what he saw.

One pint became two. And then a couple of drinks. As he walked her back across the bridge she found that her balance was more than slightly compromised. The rain had stopped and there was no longer any need to walk so close. But she didn't want to let go of him. Almost clung to his arm. She suspected she  might seem desperate and would soon scare him off, but she just couldn't help herself. This was too perfect. Things like this did not happen to her.

In front of the cathedral they stopped. He looked up and pointed. ”Look,” he said. ”The stars are out. The clouds must have dispersed.”

She looked up and swayed a little. He put an arm around her waist to steady her and then pulled her a little closer. They stood looking up for a moment. Then she felt him turn slightly towards her. She tensed and kept her head up, not daring to look at him.

”Hey,” he said softly. Before she could think she turned to look at him, and then his lips were on hers. Soft but insisting.

She almost squeaked in surprise and relief. And fear. She hadn't been kissed in such a long time. And never like this. So tender yet passionately. Standing under the stars in front of St. Paul's Cathedral, after having walked together in the rain. It was too perfect to be true. It had to be a dream.

Yet here she was. And Jim was putting his arms around her, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. Tears came to her eyes, but neither of them noticed as they flowed down her cheeks.

…

Jim came home very late that night. Sebastian had been asleep for hours when he was woken by the sound of the front door being slammed shut. Hard.

He groaned as he heard the heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom. He had just sat up and turned on the light when Jim appeared in the door. Sebastian almost managed not to laugh. ”What happened to you?” he asked.

He hadn't seen Jim in jeans since... Since before they split up. Except for that one time where he'd ruined his suit... The memory made Sebastian's body stir and he rubbed himself through the covers.

Jim noticed and raised an eyebrow. ”I've been working,” he said walking across the room towards the bathroom. ”And now I really , really need a shower.” He shivered as if in disgust.

”Not yet,” Sebastian said, in that tone of voice that could still make Jim pause. ”I want you to come over here first.”

Jim hesitated, then walked over to stand by the bed.

”What?” he said, sounding just a little irritated.

”I want to look at you,” Sebastian said. ”It's not often I get to see you like that. You look so... young... Innocent.”

Jim snorted mirthlessly. ”Right,” he said. ”Innocent...”

Sebastian smiled. ”I remember when you were innocent,” he said. ”I remember very well...” Suddenly he reached out and grabbed Jim's wrist. Before his boss could protest, he had yanked him onto the bed and was straddling his chest, bending down to kiss him. Then he paused.

”You smell funny,” he said, leaning closer to sniff him. ”And... Is that lipstick?”

Jim huffed and wiped at his lips. ”Probably,” he said. ”I think she must have refreshed that  awful thing after every single sip.”

”She?” Sebastian straightened up, looking down at Jim. ”You've been kissing a woman?”

”If you want to call her that,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. ”As I said: I've been working.”

”Strange kind of work,” Sebastian said, teasingly. ”Anything you want to elaborate on?”

Jim shrugged. ”I won't be home much for the next few weeks. I have gotten a job. And... a girlfriend.”

Sebastian might have had a problem with this last bit of information if it hadn't been for the perfectly exasperated look on Jim's face. It was just too funny.

When he was done laughing , he made it up to Jim. Several times. In the morning, he pretended to sleep as he heard Jim pack his smallest suitcase and sneak out, leaving a list of tasks he needed Sebastian to take care of while he was gone. Once he was sure Jim was gone, he got up and made himself coffee and then sat down to examine the list. He frowned. Someone was in for a hell of a time. He sincerely hoped it wasn't him.

  
  



	32. Chapter 32

John was still chuckling to himself when he crossed the street. Sherlock really was amazing. Both in a good way and in an... odd way. How someone so brilliant could be so stupid too, he would never know. But one thing was sure. Life was good at Baker Street. And with that missile plan case solved and the five 'pips' almost over with, maybe life would soon slow down to a more manageable pace.

Or maybe not... The hand on his shoulder and gun at his back seemed to indicate otherwise. At some point in his life, John would probably have panicked, but his years in the army had taught him that remaining calm in the face of danger was by far the wisest. And during his time at Sherlock's side he had almost come to expect this sort of thing.

”Just to make things clear,” he said. ”I'm _not_ Sherlock Holmes. And secondly, he does not respond well to pressure. So kidnapping me will probably not get him to back off whatever thing he may have on you. It is more likely to provide him with more clues to use against you.”

John hadn't really believed it would help, but playing tough helped him actually  _be_ tough. It was no great surprise when he was pushed forward towards a waiting car. For a moment he considered whether he should try to avoid getting into the car. It was certainly not going to take him some place pleasant. But he doubted that even he would be fast enough to disarm the man behind him. As far as he could tell, he was large. And something about the way he stood told John that he had military training. ‘Oh god...’ he thought to himself. ‘I've been around Sherlock too long.’

”Okay, alright, I'm going,” he said, walking slowly over to the car. As he bent down to get in, his jaw dropped. Inside the car was one of the last people he had expected to see: Molly Hooper's clumsy, not-so-straight boyfriend. Only he seemed different. Very different.

”Hello, Johnny,” Jim said, smiling. ”Come on in, buckle up. We're going for a little drive.”

While John did as he was told, pieces began to fall into place. He glared at the man. ”If you have hurt Molly in any way...” he began.

”Relax, Johnny,” Jim said, laughing. ”I have been nothing but sweet to that silly girl. I even managed to make her feel okay about dumping me after your boyfriend outed me. That really wasn't very nice of him, you know,” he said, making an exaggeratedly offended face. ”That really wasn't his secret to tell.”

John rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on the insinuation. Hearing people call him and Sherlock a couple had become an almost everyday occurrence.

”I'm sure she's better off without you,” he said, turning to look out the window. Couldn't let himself get distracted. Sherlock might need any information John could give him about this encounter.

The man who had held a gun to his back got in behind the wheel. John couldn't see his face, but he was indeed large. The cut of the short blond hair confirmed his suspicion. This man definitely had some military background.

”Oh, she is definitely better off without me,” Jim said. ”She is, for one thing, still alive. If I'd had to sit through another evening of cats and Austen, I'm not sure I could have contained myself.”

The car pulled away from the curb and they rode in silence for a while. John considered his options. He had not seen the gun since he got in, but he did not doubt that the driver could have it ready in case there was any trouble. So for now he should just go along and see what happened. Keeping his eyes open for an opportunity.

He considered trying to activate his phone and maybe get a message to Sherlock, but it was in his inside pocket and there was no way he could get to it without Jim, who was watching him intently, realising what he was doing.

The drive wasn't long, but John was not prepared for where it took them.

”Are we going swimming?” he asked as Jim got out of the car. ”I didn't bring my trunks.”

None of the men responded or even acknowledged him as Jim turned to look at the dark building and the tall man went round to the back of the car to get out a large bag.

Figuring that being stubborn wouldn't do him any good, John got out of the car too. ”What are we really doing here?” he asked. ”Are you going to drown me?”

”Oh no, Johnny,” Jim said, smiling at him. ”I did not choose this venue for your... date...” He giggled. ”But come now. We should go in. You need to get dressed before the fun starts.”

Date? John's blood suddenly felt like ice. Did they have Sarah too? Had he once again put her in danger simply by knowing her?

But as he was ushered into the changing room and the large man began unpacking the bag, he realised what was going on. His 'date' was Sherlock. He was to be the last 'pip'.

 

…

 

Sebastian sent all the men home and then went to look for Jim. He found him sitting on a bench in the small park behind the pool. Sebastian studied him, trying to gauge his mood, then went over and sat down next to him. As he lit a cigarette, he glanced at Jim.

”I thought the plan was to kill them,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. It wouldn't do to let Jim know how frustrated he was by the whole thing. Not if Jim was in one of his moods.

”Change of plans,” Jim repeated. ”I'm going to need him for a job.”

”A job?” Sebastian asked, incredulous. ”You actually think you can get him to work for you?”

Jim shook his head. ”No. But I know someone who can. Or at least is going to try very, very hard.”

Sebastian waited for him to continue, then turned away and smoked in silence for a while.

”Are you going to tell me?” he asked, finally.

”Tell you what?” Jim countered.

”Who he is? Why he's so important?” Why you were flirting with him?

”He's just a man,” Jim said. ”Who happens to be quite clever. And who has a very unfortunate compulsion for sticking his nose where it does not belong.”

”So why not kill him?” Sebastian asked. ”Problem solved.”

”Because he also happens to have a very powerful brother. And the detective has more weaknesses than strengths. Weaknesses that can be used against him.”

”Was that what all this was about? Finding out his weaknesses?”

”Oh no.” Jim laughed mirthlessly. ”I already knew about those. This was about determining his strengths.”

 

…

 

Irene knew the moment she stepped into the room. Here was someone who liked games. Her kind of games. She smiled as she approached her guest, and held out her hand as she would when greeting a new client.

”Mr Moran, so nice to meet you,” she said, looking him up and down. She might prefer the feminine form, but could still appreciate a good male body. And his was definitely good. Strong and powerful. And the way he stood. Like a large jungle cat, at the moment at ease, but ready to pounce without warning.

She could easily imagine how a man like that could dominate those who craved to be controlled. To be taken. Those like Kate, who was eyeing the man like he was a pitcher of lemonade on the hottest day of the year. Irene cleared her throat and her assistant almost jumped before hurrying out of the room, blushing furiously.

When she returned with the tea, she had, Irene was pleased to see, gotten herself under control, and kept her eyes demurely down. But still, Moran must have known what effect he had on her because he nearly made her drop the teapot with a soft ”Good girl,” when she poured for him.

Flustered, Kate fled the room, and Irene could not help but laugh. ”You really are naughty,” she scolded her guest. ”She's going to be squirming all day. And I really don't have time to care for her before tonight.”

”Apologies Ma'am,” Moran said, grinning cheekily. ”I was only trying to compliment her.”

”Sure you were,” Irene said, picking up her own cup to take a sip. ”You are not at all like I had expected. But then again, with Jim, nothing ever is as you expect, is it?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and she could tell he was wondering just how much she knew about Jim. Just how well she knew him. Was there a hint of jealousy? Did he feel possessive towards his boss?

She almost laughed out loud when she connected the dots. She thought she had sensed something in Moriarty, but when she had tested him he had not responded. Well, of course. If he had a man like this to take care of him, he did not need her, no matter how skilled she was. She would never be able to treat him like this man could.

”Jim is a very lucky man,” she said. ”I can imagine you know just how to treat him.”

Did he blush? She allowed herself a smug smile. She clearly hadn't lost her touch. But, feeling generous, she did not tease him anymore, and soon they were talking business.

When she saw him to the door an hour later, she noticed that he was looking at her in a different way from before.

”Is something troubling you?” she asked, smiling up at him.

He shook his head. ”No,” he said. ”I just realised that you remind me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.”


	33. Chapter 33

Mycroft just sat there staring at the air. This was worse than he could ever have imagined. How had he not seen this coming? Surely he could have stopped it. Somehow.

For some time now, he had known who the master-criminal was. The man only mentioned in whispers, running his empire though never showing his face. He had heard descriptions, even seen grainy pictures, and Mycroft had recognised him. How could he not? His memory was infallible. And that day was forever edged into his memory. The day he thought he would lose Sherlock.

Seeing him up there on the roof. So weak and sick.

And when that woman fell, he had for the first and last time in his life been fooled by his feelings. He had, for just the briefest moment, thought it was his brother. Before she hit the ground he had realised his mistake, but the pain was still there. That pain that he saw in the eyes of the young man who was still screaming as he rushed towards the lifeless body on the ground. Mycroft had known then. That boy had just lost the one person who meant most to him in the whole world. That boy was feeling the worst pain imaginable.

In the confusion that followed, Mycroft had been more focused on helping his brother, keeping him from seeing the dead girl and getting him to a secure place where, perhaps, he could finally find his way back to the life he was meant for. Later, Mycroft had learned that the boy had followed the body all the way to the hospital, filled out the paperwork and then disappeared.

Disappeared for years. And then suddenly, there he was in a report on Mycroft's desk. He had, of course, put his best men on it at once. It had not been easy and taken much longer than it should. But finally he had been able to piece enough together to confirm that Jim Moriarty was the young boy he had met that day. And that the woman who fell was his sister. 

Their father had been contacted, but it turned out that the man had lost touch with his children years before the incident and did not seem to care much that his daughter was dead. Mycroft had the man placed under surveillance anyway, but nothing useful had turned up yet.

It didn't help that there were next to no records of Moriarty's life, other than his birth certificate and a few papers about him being moved up several years at school. As far as Mycroft could tell, he was exceptionally skilled at staying off the bureaucratic radar. But it was not just that. Things were missing. Things that  _should_ have been there. Or that should at least have left some kind of trace of having, at one time, been there. But there was just... nothing.

This could only mean one thing: Moriarty was working with someone who had access to public records. Access at a level close to Mycroft's own. It was the only explanation how he could have removed himself so selectively. And if he could do this, surely he could have erased his own existence entirely, but he had not. He had chosen to leave a few traces of his life. Why? And why those specific things? Mycroft needed to know this. Needed it desperately.

Because now it had become clear, beyond any doubt, that when it came to Mycroft, Moriarty had motives going beyond his usual 'consulting' business. It was personal. Moriarty blamed Mycroft for what had happened that day. For the death of his sister. And as Irene Adler pulled Sherlock further into her web, Mycroft realised that Moriarty was going to hurt him in the worst way he could. He was going after Sherlock.

With trembling hands Mycroft picked up his phone and dialled.

“It's off,” he whispered as it was answered. “Call it off. Bond air has been compromised.”

 

…

 

As Irene was led from the Holmes Mansion, she tried to hide her smile. She had played her part well to the very end. Even managed some tears when that idiot genius thought he had seen through her, had caught her making a mistake. Once she was seated in the large black car that was to take her to the airport, she got out her other phone and called Moriarty.

“Hook, line and sinker,” she said. “Holmes is all yours.”

 

…

 

Mycroft had not moved for what seemed like hours. Just watching that strange little man through the one-way mirror.

When they brought him in, Mycroft was sure that he had won. The information in Irene Adler's phone had proved more valuable than he could ever have imagined. It had led them straight to Moriarty's home, letting them catch the villain. In bed, no less, his otherwise so dangerous bodyguard quite... compromised...

The ex-soldier had escaped, but Moriarty had let himself be taken without any resistance. Like it was no big deal. He probably expected to be taken to the Yard from which he could easily have been retrieved by his minions. But Mycroft was no fool. 

Nobody but the most trustworthy people knew of this facility. And even if Moran somehow learned of the location, there was no way he was getting in here. They had Moriarty. And they were never letting him go.

Except... Within 24 hours of capturing Moriarty, it became obvious that he had not only anticipated these events. He had prepared for them. Things started going wrong. Very wrong. Assassinations. Dangerous leaks of confidential information. Even threats of terrorist attacks. None of it linked directly to Moriarty, but it could not be a coincidence. Apparently someone had been ordered to release hell on London if Moriarty was arrested.

So the questioning began. How could they stop this? Who was behind it? How long would it go on? Would it get worse?

Methods were used that even Mycroft found distasteful, but Moriarty would not speak. Only write. The same word over and over again. On the walls of his cell, even on the mirror. Scratching it into every available surface, once they took the pen away.

The message was clear: give me Sherlock or I take the entire city.

Mycroft had no choice. He would have to gamble his brother's safety.

As Moriarty walked out the door, Mycroft could only hope that he would be able to keep Sherlock safe. That he would see whatever was coming and would be able to stop it.

Somehow.

 

…

 

Sebatian roared with laughter. “The Crown Jewels? You are insane. Absolutely barking mad.”

Jim giggled and buried his face against Sebastian's chest. “I know...” he muttered, his lips tickling the skin just below Sebastian's nipple. “I know...”

“How exactly do you plan on getting away with that?” Sebastian said, nudging Jim away and then rolling them both over, so he rested half on top of Jim.

“I don't,” Jim said, lifting his head up to catch a kiss.

“What?” Sebastian snapped, pulling away. 

“I'm going to get caught,” Jim said. “There's no way I'm walking out of there.”

“Get caught?” Sebastian groaned. “Again? You just got out.”

“Sorry, love,” Jim said. “I know it's no fun for you, but it's the only way. And this time I may not be out so quickly.”

“Oh, why not?” Sebastian asked, slumping down to rest his head on Jim's shoulder. He could tell by the tone of his voice that there was no talking him out of it. “Play Mayhem worked so well the last time.”

“I'm not getting out because I will have to wait for my trial,” Jim said. “It's very important that I be put before a judge this time.”

“They didn't put you before one last time,” Sebastian muttered. “Why do you think they'll do it this time?”

“Because this time Mycroft can't secret me away, dummy,” Jim teased, running his fingers through Sebastian's hair. “It will all be completely public. He will have no other option than to follow protocol on this.”

“And what then? What happens when you are put before a judge?” he asked.

“That, my dear,” Jim said, “is something you will have to wait for and find out.” He grabbed a handful of Sebastian’s hair and pulled his head up so he could kiss him. “We have a couple of days,” he said. “So let's not waste them.”

They didn't.

 

…

 

Merryl Williams frowned as she opened the letter. Jury service? Were they serious? Her?

“What is it?” her daughter asked as she walked in. “Is something wrong, Ma?”

Merryl shook her head and smiled. “Of course not, dear,” she said. “Ma is just going on a small vacation. Not very far. And you two get to stay with aunt Clarice while I'm gone.”

“Yay!” The girl danced around, clapping her hands eagerly. 

Merryl smiled as she watched her and picked up the phone to call her sister.

 


	34. Chapter 34

She was going to get fired. For certain. She might as well spare herself the embarrassment and just hand in her resignation. Maybe she could move back home and get her old job back. Though working for a small local newspaper, writing about school plays and fender benders... She wasn't sure she could ever do that again.  
Kitty sighed and stared down in her cup as if the last few drops of cold bitter coffee could somehow tell her what to do.  
A second sigh sounded, almost an echo of her own. She looked to her right and almost immediately dismissed the man with the messy dark hair and the creased white shirt as unimportant, but then he turned his head slightly and she almost gasped. Before she had really had a chance to process it, her hand was already going down into her pocket to bring up her dictaphone.  
”Moriarty?” she said, keeping her voice low so as not to attract the attention of the few other people in the cafe. ”James Moriarty?”  
For a moment he did not react. Almost as if he hadn't heard her. Then he tensed and turned away from her. Considering the success she had had last time she tried to confront a possible subject of an article, she supposed she should back off. And this was not the famous but abrasive detective, but a, mysteriously acquitted, known dangerous criminal. If even half the stories they told about him were true, any kind of confrontation with him could very easily end in tragedy.  
But... Her life was a tragedy anyway. Well, sort of... And an interview with Moriarty, even just a couple of quotes, might very well save her career. It was worth the risk.  
So, taking a deep breath, Kitty put her hand on the man's shoulder. ”Mr Moriarty,” she said. ”How would you like to tell the public your side of the story?”

...

Kitty laughed as she rolled over on the bed, almost falling over the side before a strong hand caught her arm and pulled her back to safety.  
”Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he said and kissed her breathlessly.  
”Oi,” she said, pushing him away playfully. ”No more, you fiend. Are you trying to kill me?”  
Richard laughed and pinned her down. ”Yes,” he said, his voice changing. Becoming cold and dark. ”I'm going to use you up and then I'm going to burn you.”  
A shiver ran through her as she looked into his eyes and saw that the change had spread to them too. So flat and... dead...  
She pushed him away with a nervous giggle. ”How do you do that?” she asked.  
”It's called acting, honey,” he said as he rolled onto his back. ”I am an actor, you know.”  
”Yes,” she said. ”So you say. And I am tempted to believe you, but I'm going to need a lot more proof if I'm going to be telling your story to the public.”  
Richard sighed and frowned. ”Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. ”Sherlock Holmes can be a dangerous man. There were a couple of times when I thought he might lose control and kill me. And apart from that, he knows some very powerful people. People who could make your life very difficult.” He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. ”Are you absolutely certain that you can handle this?”  
She nodded, putting her hand on his. ”Yes, Richard,” she said. ”This has to get out. I know he paid you, but he has dragged you through hell. In the eyes of the world, you are a monster and he is the hero. That's not fair. And as you say... He is unstable. Dangerous... Now that you have played your part, who knows what he will do next? People have been hurt before, even died, in connection with his cases. Was he responsible for all that? And what next? A terrorist attack? Kidnapping children? He has to be stopped. And we are going to do it together. You and I.”  
He smiled at her and then tears welled into his eyes. ”I'm so lucky I met you, Kitty,” he said. ”I don't know what I would have done without you.”

…

After Richard had been 'spotted' two times at the shops, Kitty insisted that he stayed at her place, at least for a couple of weeks until the buzz from the trial had died down. She did all his shopping and only allowed him to go out at night when the streets were mostly empty.  
Not just to protect him, but as she was working on the article, she grew increasingly nervous that someone might somehow get wind of the truth and publish before she had the chance. And that was just not acceptable. This was her story. And Richard was her responsibility.  
She had promised him that she would not only clear his name, but help him build his acting career out of this, taking him much further than he would have ever gone with his Storyteller gig.  
As the weeks passed, things grew quite comfortable and domestic between them. They were still very active in bed, which was a rather novel experience for Kitty, but it was more than that. Much more. Richard was so gentle and affectionate. Feeling guilty about staying in all day, he insisted on doing all the cooking and cleaning while she was at work or doing the shopping.  
Every night when she got home, they'd have their dinner on the sofa while watching telly. She'd gotten hold of his dvd and had made him watch it with her, though he had been adorably embarrassed about it. But he was good. He really was a storyteller, making the fairytales come to life, becoming all the characters with no other props than changes to his face and voice.  
At some point during the first month, something happened. Kitty couldn't say exactly when or why, but one night, as he was scrubbing her back in the shower, she realised that she had fallen for him. Fallen truly, deeply and foolishly in love.  
This would not do. Yes, they were good together. The sex was amazing and they worked well as a couple. But he was the subject of the story that would bring her to the top. And despite all she told him, she knew it wasn't going to be all dandy for him. Some of the things he'd done for that freak were definitely on the wrong side of the law and once the story was out, they would be coming after him too. Not as the criminal mastermind, but as Sherlock's accomplice. Maybe even as accessory to murder.  
She didn't blame him for the things he had done, but once the ball started rolling, she did not want to be his loving supporting partner. Her role was to cover that part of the story too. And she could not be seen as taking his side, or she'd lose all credibility.  
So she hardened herself, determined to squash those feelings before they could take root and complicate everything.  
Richard noticed something was off. How could he not? Instead of shagging a couple of times a night and at least once during the day, she began pushing him away. Not completely. She couldn't risk him leaving before the story was ready to print. And truth be told, she couldn't resist him either. He was such a wonderful lover. But she tried to keep it down to a few times a week.  
Richard grew quiet and sad. It would have broken her heart to see him like this, if she had not been so determined to not feel anything about him at all.  
And then, one day, he disappeared.

…

”Honey, I'm home!” Jim called, pushing the door to the penthouse open. If he had been expecting to find Sebastian in the midst of another orgy he would have been sorely disappointed. The sniper was, in fact, in the middle of doing the dishes and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before rolling down his sleeves and walking into the living room to meet him.  
”Six weeks,” he roared as he turned the corner, ready to make Jim pay for dropping off the face of the Earth again. ”Six fucking wee...”  
Sebastian stopped and stared. For a moment he thought that this was it. That he would have to kill Jim. Had he gone absolutely insane? Had he actually brought that cursed obsession of his into their home?  
But then he realised that the dark haired man standing next to Jim was not the detested detective. He just looked a lot like him. Especially wearing that coat and scarf.  
Jim grinned at him. ”Meet Robert,” he said. ”He's going to help us with a little job.”

As Jim explained the plan over a cup of tea, Sebastian's heart dropped.  
”Jim... No...” he said. ”They're just children. And if they're not found in time, they'll die. Horribly.”  
Jim laughed and made a sort of dismissive wave. ”That won't happen,” he said. ”I'm going to make sure that there are plenty of clues. Even the police should be able to solve this one, but he's not going to give them a chance. Just you wait and see. He'll be following my script to the letter.”  
Sebastian still wasn't thrilled about it, but Jim promised him that if the detective failed, he could go in and get the kids out before any lasting damage was done. So next morning, he set off with Robert while Jim went off to continue whatever it was he had been doing for the past month and a half.

…

”Where were you?” Kitty asked, as she pulled Richard inside and closed the door quickly. ”Were you seen?”  
Richard shook his head. ”No... I'm sorry... I just needed some time to think. Some time away from you. I... I couldn't handle it...”  
She studied him for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him. ”It's okay,” she whispered. ”I know... I understand...”  
Richard embraced her and held her close. ”I think I was falling for you,” he said. ”And I know I'm not supposed to. That's not what we're doing here.” He pulled back so he could look at her. ”But it's okay now. I've got it sorted.” He smiled and then gave her a little kiss. ”When is the story coming out?”  
”In a few days,” she said. ”My editor is working on it. The timing must be just right, so we need Holmes to make another headline, but that shouldn't take long.”  
”No, I'm sure he'll be calling attention to himself soon,” Richard said, giggling. ”A few days, you say? How about we make the most of them then?” His eyes flickered over to the stairs leading up to her bedroom. ”No strings attached or anything... But you got to admit, we're good together.”  
She could feel herself blushing as she nodded and quickly turned away from him, taking his hand so she could lead him upstairs.  
As she undressed him, she noticed some marks on his skin. Tiny bruises on his chest, arms, back and neck. Almost like love bites. She almost said something but then decided that if they were really going to keep this casual, she would just have to accept that it was none of her business.  
If Richard noticed she was more passionate, almost aggressive in her lovemaking that night, he did not mention it.


	35. Chapter 35

He was trapped. He couldn't move, he couldn't see and he couldn't speak. But he could hear them. Hear them getting closer, moving in on him. And there was nothing that could stop them. Gasping for breath, he cried out to every muscle in his body, begging for them to move. To do something!  
And there it was. A small twitch of his right hand. A slight flex of the elbow. His fingers scrambled and then closed around the hilt of his knife.  
With a cry of rage and panic he sat up in the bed, wrapping one hand around the throat of his attacker, while the other brought up the knife he always kept under his pillow. Rather than buck up against the man who was straddling his stomach, he pulled him down, turning the knife in his hand, getting ready to stab.  
”Seb...” The voice was choked and torn as panicked fingers scratched at his arm. ”It... It's me... Snap... Snap out of it...”  
It took a moment for Sebastian to wake up completely. He dropped the knife. ”Christ, Jim,” he huffed as he let go of him. ”Don't ever sneak up on me like that.”  
Jim coughed and rubbed at his sore throat. ”I... I'll try to remember...” he wheezed.  
Sebastian reached over and turned on the light, then roared with laughter.  
”What the hell are you wearing?” he cried, staring at Jim, who blushed with mixed anger and embarrassment.  
”Richard Brook,” he muttered, looking down at his clothes.  
Sebastian shook his head, still laughing. ”What?”  
”Richard Brook,” Jim repeated, glaring at him. ”Get him the fuck off me. Please...”  
Shrugging, Sebastian reached out to pull the cardigan off, but Jim slapped his hands away.  
”Not like that,” he said, leaning down over Sebastian, who thought Jim was going to kiss him. But instead he reached to his left and then brought up Sebastian's knife, holding it between them.  
”Kill him,” Jim said. ”Brook is no longer of use to me. He has done his job. And now I want you to pay him.”  
The fire in his eyes and the darkness in his voice did it. Nodding, Sebastian took the knife from him slowly, then brought it up, letting it rest lightly on Jim's throat... Brook's throat.  
”Get off me,” Sebastian growled.  
Brook whimpered and slowly backed down Sebastian's body a bit, before shifting one leg over him, now kneeling at his side. Sebastian sat up, still keeping the knife in place. ”Off the bed,” he ordered. ”Stand up.”  
He followed Brook's every movement. He pushed him to the middle of the room and then finally lowered the knife. He stepped closer, bent down and whispered in his ear: ”If you move, I will kill you.”  
Brook chanced a tiny nod, but otherwise kept completely still. Sebastian walked around him, taking in his pathetic appearance. Not one piece of clothing fit him right. His hair was a mess and the circles around his eyes were darker than Sebastian had ever seen before.  
Whoever this Brook was, he had not been kind to Jim. And Sebastian was going to make him pay.  
The cardigan was the first to go. As he slowly shredded it into thin ribbons, Sebastian deliberately let the blade slide close enough that Brook would be able to feel it through his shirt. Finally the horrid thing was so cut up that it fell apart and fluttered to the floor.  
Sebastian took a moment to study the trembling man in front of him. So weak. So disgusting. He walked around him, slowly, pretending to ignore the quiet sobs. The sounds sent such delicious thrills through him that he had to look away for a moment to hide his smirk.  
Standing behind Brook, he took hold of his shirt, tugging it loose from his jeans. He cut a small slit in the hem, then put his knife down. Grabbing the shirt with both hands, he pulled hard. The sound of the fabric tearing almost drowned out Brook's cry of fear and surprise, but Sebastian hardly noticed, being momentarily distracted by the pale, nearly flawless skin of his back.  
Pushing the ruined cloth aside, he placed his palm gently against the smaller man's spine, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn't care if it was out of character. He had missed Jim like crazy these past months, when he'd been in and out of the flat, never staying longer than a single night. Well, not this time. Sebastian was killing Brook and then he was going to keep Jim here, whether he wanted it or not.  
A change in Jim's breathing let Sebastian know that he was pushing it and he pulled his hand away quickly. For good measure, he gave Brook a swift blow to the back of the head before he picked up his knife and cut the last inch of the shirt, so that he could push it off Brook's shoulders.  
Then came the jeans. Sebastian hooked his knife under the belt and pulled it up. Cutting through the leather was hard, but more satisfying than Sebastian would have thought. Something about the jingling sound the buckle made as the belt slipped from the loops and fell to the floor, made him tremble and everything seemed to shift around him. Just for a second. As if he were in another place. Another time.  
But then he was back, and the knife was already slicing through the tough denim, cutting away patches of the jeans, revealing worn, faded pants of the ill-fitting kind that his Jim would never wear. This thought made him grin and he gave the pants a few quick slices so that he could tear them off through a large hole in the jeans.  
Brook groaned and flinched, which only made Sebastian laugh. ”Oh... did I squeeze your wee wee?” he teased in a mock baby voice. ”Does little baby Brook not want to play anymore?”  
Brook tensed but did not reply, so Sebastian went back to cutting up the jeans. Finally they were nothing but ragged strips hanging from the waistband and Sebastian stepped back, walking over to put the knife on the dresser by the door.  
”So... Brook...” he said, not taking his eyes off him. ”My boss ordered me to kill you, but I think I'm going to have a some fun with you first. I don't think he'd mind that. Do you?”  
The shake of Jim's head was tiny, but there was a subtle change in him that let Sebastian know that Jim thought this was a very good idea.  
Grinning, Sebastian opened the top drawer of the dresser and got out a couple of Jim's favourite ties. He was going to pay for this, but right now he didn't care. He was in charge here and Jim was not going to stop the game to complain about a ruined tie or two.  
He leapt at Brook and, before the smaller man could react, brought one of the ties over his head and then down over his mouth, forcing it between his lips. He tied the gag behind Brook's head and then shoved him hard in the back, towards the bed. Brook stumbled and would have fallen if Sebastian had not grabbed one of his arms and pulled it back hard.  
Brook screamed through the gag, but Sebastian ignored it, grabbing his other arm and twisting it back too. He wrapped the tie around Brook's wrists a couple of times and tied it off with a loose slipknot. Then he let go, letting Brook fall awkwardly forward onto the bed.  
Brook squirmed a little, which made the tatters of his jeans fall to the side, framing his firm arse beautifully.  
Sebastian pulled his own boxers off, kicked them to the side and then knelt on the bed, right behind Brook. ”I wonder...” he said, putting one hand on Brook's leg, keeping him from wriggling away. ”I wonder if such a little wimp has ever been fucked. If such a tiny little arse would even be able to take a real cock.”  
Brook whimpered and cried around the gag, and Sebastian laughed wickedly as he quickly stroked himself to full size. ”Actually,” he said. ”I suspect you are a proper little slut. That you've been giving it away left and right. But don't worry about that. I think we can fake it. I think we can make it feel as if it was the first time. All it takes is a little roughness. And a lot of dryness.”  
Brook muttered something through the gag that might very well have been ”Bastard”, but Sebastian just gave his arse a hard slap. ”Stay in character, boss,” he teased. ”Or you're not getting anything.”  
There was an annoyed groan, but no further protests, and Sebastian pushed Brook's legs apart, settling between them. Then he hesitated. As much as he wanted to punish Brook for keeping his Jim away, he didn't want to actually hurt Jim. Or to risk him being too sore for too long afterwards. So he licked his palm and then reached down to slick himself as best he could.  
But Brook was not getting any preparation and he squealed as Sebastian breached him.   
”Fuck...” Sebastian groaned as he worked his way in slowly. ”You really are virgin-tight...” He had to pause several times to get control of himself, but finally he was as deep as he could get. He held still and bent down to sink his teeth into one of Brook's shoulders. Not only because he enjoyed the cry it caused, but because he knew that the pain would distract from the intrusion. And surely enough, only a moment later, he could feel Brook's muscles relaxing a bit around him.  
”Good boy,” he whispered in his ear, then moved to bite his other shoulder, just a little more gently. Then he began rolling his hips slowly, growling at the delicious sensation of the pull and friction of the dry hole around him. He let himself enjoy it for a while, but as Brook grew looser, he knew that it was time to fuck him for real. So with a soft groan, he pulled out slowly and, after grabbing the lube from the nightstand, applied plenty both to his own cock and the red skin around Brook's sore hole.  
This was going to hurt. But not too much. At least Sebastian hoped not. He grabbed Brook's hips and pulled him up onto his knees, so that his face and chest were pushed into the mattress. He gave his arse one more slap and then pulled him onto his cock.  
It took some effort, but he managed to last a lot longer than he usually could and when he finally came, they were both covered in sweat and gasping for breath. But he did not pull out. Instead he grabbed Brook by the hair and pulled him up against his own chest.  
”That was for Jim,” he hissed into the man's ear. ”That was for all the time you kept him away from me.” Then he wrapped his arm in front of Brook's throat and began squeezing. ”And this...” he purred. ”This is for me.”  
Brook tried to scream and began struggling, but with his arms tied together and now trapped between them, there wasn't much he could do.  
Sebastian held on, waiting, until he felt the body against him go limp. He let go and as Jim collapsed in front of him, Sebastian dove forward, turning him over and ripping the gag from his mouth. He pressed his lips to Jim's and waited. As he felt a soft breath against his mouth, he sighed in relief and felt tears well up in his eyes. With gentle hands he freed Jim's limp body of the ties and ruined jeans, applied some soothing salve to his abused hole and then tucked him into bed.  
He hurried into the kitchen to fill a glass of water and find some painkillers, which he put on the nightstand so they would be ready for Jim when he woke up. Then he cleaned himself up and got into bed behind Jim, pulling him close to his chest.  
…  
Sherlock tossed the ball, watched it bounce and then caught it, only to send it off again.  
Something was not right. Nothing was right. Oh, Moriarty's plan was clever. The code, the crimes, the trials. And Richard Brook! Creating a whole identity with a history and a record. Almost flawless. Sherlock had already been online to check and yes, Richard Brook seemed real. It would take a very thorough investigation to prove otherwise. It would take time. Time he did not have. Moriarty's plan was so perfect that it was almost beautiful.  
Except: why? Why was he doing all this? Why set such gigantic wheels in motion just to discredit Sherlock? Why was he so important to Moriarty? If he wanted Sherlock dead, he could have killed him so many times. Not just by the pool... He could have had him assassinated. He had the people. One simple order and Sherlock would have been dead.  
But Moriarty said he owed him. Owed him a fall. Why a fall? What was he talking about? Sherlock had been going through all his old cases, over and over again since they had left Kitty's place. He could easily see Moriarty's hand in many of them, pinpoint many times when he must have crossed the consulting criminal, foiled his plans. But which one had touched Moriarty personally? And why a fall? It just didn't make sense.  
Yet his words had sparked something in Sherlock. An idea. Moriarty wanted to see him fall. He doubted very much there would be any way to avoid that. But maybe there would be a way to give him that fall and still walk away from it all.  
He continued bouncing the ball with one hand as he got out his phone and called his brother.  
...  
Jim was sore and hoarse the next morning, but also seemed very happy and relaxed. Sebastian ordered him to stay in bed while he cooked him breakfast and then set up the laptop so that they could watch a movie while eating.  
Afterwards Jim made love to him and then gave him a very deep and thorough blowjob. Sebastian felt in a perfect state of bliss, right until he came out of the shower and found Jim putting on one of his suits.  
He couldn't believe it. Was Jim leaving again? Already?  
Keeping his face calm, he walked past Jim over to the dresser and got out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He put them on and then, wrapping the handcuffs in a shirt so they wouldn't make any noise, hid them behind his back and walked over to Jim, who was looking in the mirror, trying to flatten his hair.  
“You really messed me up good, darling,” Jim said, catching his eyes in the mirror and smiling.  
“I know,” Sebastian answered with a smirk and bent down to kiss Jim's neck. “I'm not sorry.”  
“You shouldn't be,” Jim said, closing his eyes for a moment. Then they flew open as he felt the cold steel around his wrist. He pushed Sebastian away, but it was too late. Their right wrists were cuffed together.  
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled and swung at Sebastian, who easily dodged him.  
“I'm keeping you here,” Sebastian said. “I've hardly seen you these past months and you never tell me where you're going. But not this time. This time you're staying with me. And you're gonna start talking. Tell me what's going on.”  
“No...” Jim cried, twisting and tugging at his wrist. “Not now, Sebastian. I can't stay now. I can't be late for this.”  
“Late for what?” Sebastian said and grabbed Jim by the shoulder, trying to keep him from hurting himself. Jim struggled and Sebastian pulled him closer, pinning him against his chest. “Late for whom?”  
Jim tried hitting him a few times, but then suddenly stopped. With a deep sigh he relaxed in Sebastian's arms.  
“It's about Jemima,” he muttered into his chest. “About why you had to leave. Back then.”  
…  
Sebastian had never been calmer in his entire life. As he assembled his rifle, his mind was perfectly clear. At peace.  
Jim had finally told him the truth. About the baby. About Jemima. How she had died. Why she had died. He had explained to Sebastian how he had taken revenge on the man who had ordered Jemima to go after Holmes that day. And how he had been setting things up to get revenge on Holmes too. How he was going to make Mycroft Holmes experience exactly the pain Jim had felt when he had watched his sister fall. How he was going to not only kill Sherlock, but make him feel the pain too as he faced the risk of his loved ones being hurt because of him.  
The plan was quite brilliant and Sebastian was glad Jim had included him. First Jim had tried to send him to the Yard, but Sebastian had insisted he wanted to cover the doctor. That way he would be right there. He would get to watch the detective fall. He might not have been there when Jemima died. He might not have seen it happen. But he had loved her too. Not like he loved Jim, and not like Jim had loved her, but still... He wanted to watch that prick pay for what he had done to her.  
And then, when it was over, Jim could finally slow down. He could step back and let business run itself. They could go away for a while. Maybe even emigrate. Get away from it all. And bring Jim's kid, of course. Sebastian couldn't wait to meet him. Jim had shown him some pictures and it had been like looking back in time. That adorable little shit that had been following Jemima around school. Jim's son looked exactly like his father. Why Jim had named him after... that man... Sebastian would never understand, but to Jim it seemed to make perfect sense. Something about giving and taking life, he had said.  
Sebastian had let himself get distracted and he almost missed it. But there was the doctor. And then he saw the detective, up on the roof. There was something in his hand. Sebastian moved the rifle so he could watch him through the scope. A phone... How touching. He was saying goodbye. He scanned the roof, trying to see Jim, but the angle was wrong. And of course he would be keeping out of sight. No one would believe the tale if anybody saw him up there with the detective.  
How long was he going to keep talking? Sebastian shifted his view down to the doctor again, who was standing there with his phone pressed to his ear and his eyes glued to his friend. This was going to hurt.  
Sebastian smiled. This was going to hurt, just like Jim had hurt. And the detective knew his friend was watching. Knew what he was doing. It was perfect. And if he didn't jump, he'd get to watch his friend die. But he would jump. Sebastian knew he would. Just like he'd jump if it was Jim's life on the line.  
Even without watching the detective, Sebastian knew when it happened. He could see every detail of it on the doctor's face. Not before the doctor went down, struck by a cyclist, did Sebastian turn to watch the commotion on the ground in front of the hospital. So many doctors and nurses already on hand to help. Jemima had not had that. Just Jim and Mycroft Holmes.  
Well... That debt had finally been paid.  
Sebastian hummed to himself as he packed up his rifle and headed down to his car. If he hurried, he could be home before Jim. Get a bottle ready so they could celebrate.  
…  
Sherlock sat in the small dark room, his face hidden in his hands. All the events of the day kept replaying themselves in his mind over and over again. Could he have foreseen it? Could he have stopped it? Why? Why did Moriarty do it?  
His mind was running in circles, but through it all was a tiny little glitch that kept nagging at him. Something Moriarty had said... Right at the end, when he had smiled up at Sherlock. Taken his hand. His voice had been so soft...  
Sherlock turned the words over, each and every one, but could find no hidden meaning. So why could he not let it go? Why did he keep returning to that very moment? He knew that when this happened, his subconscious had picked up on something. Knew that he should not discard it, but keep digging until he found what his mind was trying to tell him.  
Those words... That voice. That soft voice and that warm hand... That touch had somehow been familiar. It reminded him of something he couldn't quite remember. Sherlock straightened up, took a few deep breaths and then leaned back, letting himself sink into his mind palace, letting Moriarty's hand lead him to places he had not been in years. Over a decade.  
Another small room. But different. Dirty. And there had been a friend. A girl who had been kind to him. And a boy. A young boy with gentle hands and a voice so soft that it had melted Sherlock's resolve. Had burned its way into him.  
Overwhelmed by the darkness, the touches and the gentle words, Sherlock reeled and then cried out. And in his mind he heard another cry. A dual cry. Two voices, almost the same. Crying out in terror. And he had looked down and there... For a fraction of a second, just before her body hit the ground, he had caught the eyes of the young man staring up in horror. Those eyes...  
Alone in a small room, Sherlock Holmes, the discredited genius, the cold-hearted detective, wept.  
…  
Timothy pulled up his bag, which kept slipping from his shoulder. Around him, the other kids where jostling each other, screaming and laughing as they headed for the front doors. It was summer. They were going home.  
But not Timothy. He had no real home to go to. His mother had died less than a year after he started here, and every summer since he had spent with her sister, a woman whom he barely knew and did not really like. But the summers were made bearable by one thing: Uncle James.  
He always visited him at least twice over the summer. For a whole day at a time. And he took him places. To the city, to the sea or out in the country. This year he might even take him away for a whole weekend, he had said.  
Timothy dodged the children who were rushing for the parking lot, searching for their waiting parents. He would, as always, take the bus down to the station and then catch a train. It wasn't all bad. Usually a few of the others were going the same way and they could hang out on the train. Talk, play games. Enjoy that school was over for now.  
But then something caught his eyes. A sleek black car, parked, not on the school's parking lot, but outside the gates. He knew that car. He had sat in that car. He had even, once, tried to drive that car a few feet down a country road.  
“Uncle James!” he cried out while he began to run. As he rushed through the gates, the door of the car opened and a man got out.  
Timothy stopped and stared. It was not uncle James, but a tall, blond stranger, with a long scar marring his otherwise handsome face. The man put his hands in his pockets and smiled at Timothy. A sad smile.  
“Hello,” he said. “I'm a friend of your... uncle. I...” The man closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this. Thank you for sticking with me. Hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> The character Jemima is loosely based on an OC I met in a RP. I've changed many things about her, including her name and back story, but parts of her personality has been kept unchanged.


End file.
